


Moonstruck

by knightswatch, phantomwised



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Animal Death, Blood and Gore, Character Death, Families of Choice, Getting Together, Horror, Illustrated, M/M, Pack Dynamics, Supernatural Elements, Tags May Change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-09-18
Packaged: 2018-05-25 08:59:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 9
Words: 52,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6188308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knightswatch/pseuds/knightswatch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantomwised/pseuds/phantomwised
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Yahaba Shigeru has never seen a monster before, but the ones he meets aren't what he would have expected.</p><p>Kyoutani Kentarou thinks he's a monster all the time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. meeting the monsters

**Author's Note:**

> Illustrated by the lovely and amazing [Shaye](http://archiveofourown.org/users/dethronedHierophant/pseuds/dethronedHierophant), and beta'd by the Golden And Good [Kie](http://archiveofourown.org/users/amorevolous/pseuds/amorevolous). Please thank both of them for making this possible, especially Shaye for helping me come up with ideas and enabling my horrible sins as a human being.

_"What are we made of but hunger and rage?"_ \- Anne Carson

* * *

 

Yahaba Shigeru has never seen a monster before.

It's bad luck that changes that fact. Wrong place, wrong time really. He stayed late at practice so Oikawa could coach him and Kyoutani on their quick and now he's walking home with the sun starting to sink behind the buildings around him.

It's not a comfortable walk home, not really. He's got the tingling, shivery sensation of being watched sliding down the back of his neck with every step he takes, and it pushes him to move faster along the quickly darkening sidewalk, fingers tight around the strap of his bag.

And there are no stray dogs in this area, so he's absolutely _not_ hearing dogs growling behind him. That would make no sense at all.

Except, he turns the corner and there _is_ a dog—or, a wolf really. Not a small one either; it stands almost to his thigh with bright yellow fur, a coarse mane of it from the back of his head to the tops of his shoulders with two thick black stripes banded in a curve across the back of his neck. Heavier in the front, though Shigeru isn't sure if it’s from the fur or not, with paws that look to be almost as big as Shigeru's hands. He's stocky and short through the legs, and dips even lower with his tail tucked against his stomach, a snarl reverberating through the center of his chest.

Shigeru stumbles back a surprised step, eyes wide and hands held out in front of him in a gesture that will hopefully come off as appeasing. When he turns, he finds two more behind him, darker in color and slightly larger in size, blocking any chance of running the other way. He shuffles to the side quickly and teeth snap at the empty air left behind, tongue poking through them. Shigeru can feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, adrenaline running electric through his veins.

He takes stumbling strides backward, not realizing he's backed himself into an alleyway until he trips over his own feet, head smacking against the brick wall that's suddenly behind him and making his skull vibrate with the impact. He has to blink several times to clear his vision of the tears gathering there from the thudding pain at the back of his head.

Shigeru's pretty sure they're going to be finding pieces of him scattered all around this alley.

But when he looks up he's not met with a pair of jaws ready to snap his throat out, but the fluffy underside of the yellow wolf's tail. He's crouched in front of Shigeru, snarling just as loudly as before but facing away, watching the other two wolves at the mouth of the alleyway instead.

His mouth opens around another growl when one of them advances a step further, and Shigeru is still trying to push his legs under him when they clash together. The black wolf is larger up close and looms in Shigeru's vision like spilled ink. The yellow one yelps but pushes back, teeth snapping until they catch fur and skin on the side of the other's neck, ears flattened against his head.

The both of them release, backing up only to raise on their hind legs and clash together again, paws outstretched, clawing at one another. The yellow wolf, smaller despite his bulk, is knocked onto his back but doesn't seem cowed by it, kicking his hind legs until they scratch at the flank of the black wolf, wiggling himself free and backing away again.

Something about it is terrible to watch in a way that Shigeru can't explain. It seems like they both stop to consider _how_ to attack one another, measuring. Neither seems to be badly injured, but the second of the pair noses at the flank of the first with a soft, whining sound from the back of its throat.

The wolf in front of Shigeru pauses at that, lowering himself defensively once more, lip curled over his teeth, digging his paws in to stand his ground more firmly. The two others yip at him, sharp and loud, before turning and trotting away. He relaxes slowly, and Shigeru pushes himself to his feet, brushing his scuffed palms off on his slacks, staring at the now empty mouth of the alley. “Um.”

He turns halfway to face Shigeru, and it's not like he has a wagging tail and his tongue lolling out but he doesn't snarl. There's a furrow in his brow and blood on his muzzle. Shigeru doesn't reach his hand out to pet the animal, sure he doesn't want his fingers to be bitten off. “Thank you? I think.”

That seems to be the proper thing to say though the wolf offers nothing in the way of acknowledgment except for turning and trotting away.

 

 

–

Kyoutani actually bothers to show up to practice, and when he does he has a black eye and a split lip, along with piercings in his ears that Shigeru doesn't remember seeing the last time he showed his face.

Whatever. It's not like he studies the surly asshole.

Iwaizumi takes one look at him and gets upset, arms crossed, demanding to know _who_ Kyoutani got into a fight with _now_.

Something strange and pinched crosses Kyoutani's face, frustration following it. He looks away, head tilted like he wants to hide the injury, frowning. “It was just some assholes from a different school. It's no big deal.”

“You can't be on this team if you're going out and getting into fights.” Iwaizumi sounds serious, and Shigeru wonders if Oikawa is going to swoop in and overrule him to try and keep the peace. Kyoutani lifts his head, eyes wide, fingers twitching at his sides.

“I'm not. They picked a fight with me.” He doesn't say he wants to stay, Shigeru notices bitterly, even though it's written across his face as clear as day. He scuffs his foot against the ground, shrugging his shoulders. “Sorry.”

He says it like it pains him, but Iwaizumi hums in the back of his throat and nods, posture starting to relax. He gives Kyoutani a pat on the shoulder, quick and simple, and that's the end of it. “Go stretch.”

Shigeru doesn't believe someone else picked a fight with Kyoutani. He's seen the boys that the wing spiker hangs around when he's not with the team—only one of them looks like he's still in high school, and they certainly aren't a crowd of respectable students trying to get him on the right track. They hang around outside the gates and smoke until Kyoutani comes out to meet them or until a teacher tells them they have to leave.

Despite how he's tried, Shigeru can't figure out why Kyoutani wants to stay on the volleyball team. He barely ever comes to practice, and seems to have nothing but contempt for everyone on the team except for Iwaizumi. He mouths off to Oikawa regularly. Shigeru can't stand him, really.

Kyoutani sulks off when Iwaizumi dismisses him and gets warmed up on his own. If he's aware of the scared looks that Kindaichi keeps shooting at his back, he doesn't say anything about it.

Shigeru can't blame him—there's an aura around Kyoutani that makes him seem hostile and unapproachable, and his attitude does nothing to help it. He goes through drills with the rest of the team and regularly stops to yell at Oikawa, or Hanamaki, or anyone who has the misfortune of working with him.

Shigeru avoids it, he doesn't care if Mizoguchi yells at him later.

Kyoutani stalks out of practice before they finish cleaning, and by the time Shigeru is leaving the gym to get changed he's jogging toward the gate with his shady looking friends waiting to meet him.

 

 

–

Being part of a pack is a strange, new experience for Kentarou.

He makes a lot of mistakes since he's been on his own for so long that he doesn't know how to conduct himself. They forgive him, though, and that alone is something he has to take time to get used to.

Tossing his bag on his shoulder as he jogs out of practice, he doesn't wave or do anything that would make it seem like he's desperate to see them. It's the kind of thing the four of them would laugh at him for. Yuuji grins at him, head cocked to the side, mouth open just enough to show off the metal ball resting on his tongue.

It's steel, of course, not silver.

“You ditch out on clean up duties again, Yuuji?” He raises an eyebrow, slowing to a walk when he's passed the gate of the school. Yuuji shrugs at him, laughing.

(They use each other's given names because the pack is supposed to be a family on its own. Kentarou is still getting used to it.)

“What good is being captain if I can't have grunts do all the hard work?” The grin on his face only gets sharper, shoulder bumping against Kentarou's by way of informal greeting. “Grunts like you.”

Because he's the lowest ranking member of the pack, he has to wait for the rest of them to greet him. Yuuji almost always does—the other three rarely bother with it. Yuda—taller than Kentarou or Yuuji are, has his hair slicked back in the way he's decided is fashionable over the last few weeks, running his fingers through it in an effort to get it settled perfectly, rolls his eyes and leans his shoulders against the bricks that anchor the gate.

“I don't get this whole sports obsession you two have to begin with,” he sighs, and Kentarou shrugs his shoulders because he doesn't really think either of them are _obsessed_ , but he's good at it and some of the time it's even fun playing with the rest of the team. (Not that he really wants anyone to know that.)

The three members of their pack outside of Kentarou and Yuuji are all older, enrolled in the local college and living together; Yuda Kaneo, Motomu Sawauchi, and Heisuke Shido. There's a strict order of power between them, and Kentarou is the bottom ranking member compared to Heisuke, current alpha.

He has a cigarette hanging out of his mouth, unlit, and a row of piercings down his right ear with his hair shaved down close to his head. He doesn't say anything until Kentarou looks over at him, and in response, he frowns. He takes a quick step forward, fingers catching the bottom of Kentarou's jaw and tilting his face up, eyes narrowing at the fresh black eye.

“Who'd you get into trouble with?” He doesn't let go, cocking his head to the side. It's possible he's waiting to see if Kentarou will try and yank his way free like he used to—testing if he knows his place better. He holds still, fingers bunched into fists at his sides.

“Towada siblings,” he doesn't entirely want to answer _why_ he got into a fight since the answer is 'Yahaba' and that won't go over well with any of them. He doesn't talk about the team much, mostly because he doesn't care enough to, but Yahaba is annoying enough that he still comes up from time to time.

He can't explain the impulse that led him to get into a fight in an effort to _protect_ Yahaba. Really, he shouldn't care if he's an idiot and gets himself hurt.

But he did care, and he ended up with a black eye for it.

Heisuke looks surprised by the answer, thick eyebrows lifting for a moment before he drops his hand and laughs, clapping Kentarou on the shoulder. “By yourself? Looks like you do have some spark in you.”

Kentarou nearly finds himself beaming at the praise, and the tips of his ears are undoubtedly bright red, but he ducks his head to avoid the embarrassment and shrugs his shoulders instead, grumbling down at his feet. “They were in my way—not a big deal.”

“Oi,” the shout from behind him makes Kentarou lift his head with surprise straightening out his spine, blinking at Iwaizumi stopping a few feet away and nodding his head with a frown. “If you wanna come to practice you better stay and help clean up, Kyoutani-kun.”

Well _shit._

“S- sorry Iwaizumi-senpai,” the words come out rough, but he doesn't want to drag out getting scolded longer by having ditched out of practice _and_ been disrespectful on top of it. And—surprisingly, he actually does respect Iwaizumi.

He doesn't expect anyone in the pack to really care about him getting yelled at for bailing, and in fact, Yuuji snickers behind him. But Iwaizumi glances them over and shakes his head. “I don't care what you're in such a hurry to do. If you're going to be part of this team I want you to act like it.”

Kentarou can see Oikawa lingering with the other third-years a few feet away, fingers in the back of his hair, laughing. They probably walk home together, he realizes. Heisuke frowns, pulling the cigarette out of his mouth with a little snort. “Seems like a little much for a club activity.”

Despite the difference in height and the rough appearance that Heisuke likes—leather jacket and boots tied around his ankles over his jeans despite the warm spring air—Iwaizumi barely blinks when he looks up at him. His eyes are steady and hard, and Kentarou finds it more than a little intimidating.

“We're a serious team—calligraphy is a club activity,” he tilts his chin up slightly further, and the animal part of Kentarou's brain is shrinking back from someone challenging the alpha, even if Iwaizumi has no idea that's what he's doing. He turns back to Kentarou, still frowning. “Your spot is still there if you decide you want it.”

Kentarou mumbles an 'okay' that he isn't sure if Iwaizumi hears or not. Heisuke is still staring at him, and Kentarou only needs the too long moment of silence to know he's going to have to do a lot more fighting than a scrap with the Towada brothers to hear the end of this.

Motomu laughs, flipping his phone out of his pocket and starting to walk toward the apartment with a roll of his eyes, fingers scratching at the design shaved into the back of his head. “Sheesh. Such serious high schoolers.”

He catches a glimpse, before he turns, of Yahaba standing outside the club room with Watari at his elbow, staring at him with what might be a little furrow in his brow. Kentarou is too far away to tell entirely, but something about it leaves his heart pounding faster than it should be.

 

 

–

Shigeru is weighing how much studying he can get done before he has to sleep, cheek leaning on his palm, staring thoughtfully out the window. His curtains are open, casting enough light into the semi-darkness outside the window that he can see the hulking yellow shape of the wolf as it settles down in the small space between Shigeru's house and the neighbors.

Still, he blinks in confusion, frowning slightly harder. It's the same one as yesterday, it has to be, and it isn't doing anything much by the looks of it, just laying on the pavement, chin resting on its paws. There seems to be a little chunk of skin missing from the tip of one ear, still leaking blood. That's the thing that makes him push his chair back from his desk to go root around in the kitchen as quietly as possible, gathering a plate of leftover chicken and sneaking out the door.

The sound of it opening and closing again makes the wolf lift his head, turning to stare at Shigeru with those overly bright eyes. He tilts his head slightly, sniffing at the air. Shigeru sets the plate down on the corner of the porch, within easy reach if the wolf moves a few feet, then quickly backs up from it himself.

For a long moment, the wolf stares at him instead of the food itself. Then it shifts, pulling his body off the ground and wandering forward to sniff at the meat. There's a slight limp in one of his back legs, and he sits rather than stands at the edge of the porch, licking the food tentatively.

It's a level of wariness that fits with a stray dog, Shigeru figures, and he waits until the wolf has started actually chewing on pieces of meat before moving forward. His ears shift slightly back but he doesn't growl or lift his head from the food, and Shigeru settles on his heels again once he's within arms reach.

Wanting to pet him is only natural, Shigeru supposes. His fur doesn't have a soft look to it, and there are patches missing around his neck and stomach that Shigeru can't be sure about. He rests his hand slightly closer, humming in the back of his throat. “So what? Are you following me home now?”

At that, the wolf lifts his head to blink slowly in Shigeru's direction, and maybe it's just wishful thinking, but Shigeru can see annoyance and disbelief in that expression.

“Does that make me special or you hungry then?” He laughs softly, biting his lip to stop himself when the wolf heaves out a long breath and returns to eating. He's not sure how much talking to an animal you can do before it gets strange, but he continues. “Well, whatever. Consider it a thank you, I guess.”

The wolf's ears twitch slightly and when he finishes licking at the plate he returns to staring at Shigeru for another long moment. There isn't anger on his face, at least not how Shigeru is used to seeing a dog look angry—growling with every tooth fully on display, nose wrinkled, ears back.

His ears are forward and his mouth his is shut though there's a furrow along his forehead as well. Not angry, maybe, but certainly intense in the way he stares. Shigeru hesitates before reaching his hand forward, palm up, letting the wolf lean to sniff at it.

It's probable that he only gives Shigeru's palm a small lick before retreating because his hands still have chicken on them. He only backs away a few steps, though, hesitating like he's not sure of himself. He settles again after a moment, huffing a soft sound that isn't quite a bark.

Really, Shigeru doesn't have any idea how he's supposed to take that, and he leans forward to gather the plate back up slowly before walking back inside. He's reluctant to leave the animal sitting outside like that, but at least, it's spring and warm. His dad has been afraid of dogs since childhood, and because of that having one has never actually been an option.

They have a cat, though, an older tabby named Tama that springs off the table to rub at Shigeru's ankle as soon as he sets the plate down in the sink, purring loudly enough that he can feel the vibration of it through his sweats.

She follows him into his room, darting between his legs like she's _hoping_ that he'll trip. He sits back in his chair, digging his notes out to study and rolling his eyes when Tama immediately jumps into his lap to demand attention. He strokes along her back, glancing out the window more than he should for someone who's supposed to be studying algebra.

For a short time, the wolf is still there. He sits near the porch like he's standing on guard, pawing at his injured ear and thumping his tail slightly on the ground. After awhile, when Shigeru is falling asleep on his books, the wolf stands up and jogs along the sidewalk, letting the night swallow him up.

 

 

–

It's late, late at night when Kentarou's phone lights up with the message, making him groan and roll onto his side to read what it says, eyes watering at the sudden brightness.

**Heisuke**  
_> >day off tomorrow! See ya at the yard, pup_ (3:48)

_(3:49) k._

Kentarou is too tired to send anything else back but he manages to flip his alarm off before falling asleep with his phone on the pillow, huffing a sigh to himself. He'll get yelled at by his teachers, and probably by Iwaizumi, for skipping, but it seems less important than taking the time to spend with his pack, his family.

Kentarou does _not_ wake up bright and early, and if his shoes still resting by the door in the morning when his dad goes to work are noticed, he doesn't hear anything about it. It doesn't worry him—he's vanished for the entire stretch of a full moon before and not gotten yelled at for it. It's easier for his dad if he _isn't_ around. He tries not to dwell on it.

He shows up just shy of noon at the old scrapyard that Heisuke likes for them to hang out in. It's as nice a place as can be expected for a car graveyard, with a rusted old fence barely standing around the edges and an old workshop half reclaimed by weeds. The sun is high in the air overhead when Kentarou gets there, and no one is actually inside the workshop space. He leans his bag on the outer wall of it, cocking his head at Yuuji half asleep on the hood of a rusted car, the bright yellow fabric of his Jozenji jersey balled under his head. He's in his uniform, unlike Kentarou, with the sleeves pushed up to his elbows and the top buttons left undone around his throat.

“You still showed up for school?” Kentarou raises an eyebrow, climbing to sit on the space left by Yuuji's side with a roll of his eyes. Yuuji blinks his eyes open, immediately squinting against the glare of the sun and turning his head to the side with a shrug and a low laugh.

“I couldn't exactly leave without my uniform on and _not_ get questioned,” he frowns slightly at Kentarou's jeans and a loose t-shirt, snorting. “Unlike somebody, I guess. And I had to get Bobata-kun to take over practice for me.”

Yuuji pushes himself up on his elbows, knocking the side of his head against Kentarou's shoulder before laying back down with a yawn. “Your eye looks less shitty.”

“Thanks,” he rolls both of them with a snort, drumming his fingers on his leg. There's a cut on the shell of his ear still from wrestling with Yuda, but it's healed up enough to just be a vague sort of itch, easily ignored. “Not like the Towada's are _actually_ that tough.”

Not that he'd want to take the two of them on again. He's still worried they'll crop back up and give Yahaba trouble. It's a frustrating feeling, because he doesn't _want_ to care about what happens to Yahaba Shigeru, of all people, but the thought of him getting _hurt_ makes panic twist in the pit of Kentarou's stomach. Yuuji laughs, putting his hands behind his head and biting the ball of his tongue piercing between his teeth, a habit he has while thinking.

“Why _did_ you pick a fight with them, anyway?” The piercing clicks just slightly against his teeth when he talks and Kentarou shrugs his shoulders. He's not very good at coming up with things on the spot, and usually, it's easier not to give an answer at all. There's the heavy, chemical smell of spray paint in the air and Yuuji seems distracted by it, turning his head to look past the workshop with a snort. “What's Motomu trying to tag this time?”

Kentarou shrugs but pushes himself off the hood of the car to go see, glad that it's more interesting than whatever he could make up. Heisuke and Yuda are seated on a patch of grass, backs against what probably used to be a boat of some kind, watching Motomu stare at the hood of the car in front of him. He has a can of spray paint in one hand, shaking it slowly and making the ball inside of it rattle, with his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, brow pinched in focus. He's starting to get much better, Kentarou notes, the outline he's painted already _does_ look kind of like a dog, at least. Motomu doesn't glance at them but Heisuke looks up with a slightly lopsided grin, plucking the cigarette out of his mouth and flicking ash off the end before passing it to Yuda next to him, tilting his head back to blow smoke carelessly into the air.

“Figured you could use a break from your serious volleyball careers,” he laughs when he says it and so does Yuuji after a moment. Kentarou manages half a smile, rubbing the back of his neck and leaning his back against the rusted edge of a barrel.

“I guess,” he's sort of hoping no one's in the mood to pick a fight with him today. As the lowest ranking member, he doesn't generally have much of an option to say 'no', but he feels worn down by the week already and he'd rather just be left alone to curl up somewhere sunny and take a nap.

Still, right now, there's something nice about it all. Yuuji sits next to his leg, not quite touching him but close enough that the warmth that radiates off of him is obvious. Motomu hums while he agonizes over his graffiti, even though no one else comes here to see it, and Heisuke and Yuda seem content to continue passing the same cigarette back and forth, blowing smoke at each other and laughing. It's an air of quiet, comfortable acceptance that Kentarou isn't entirely used to feeling.

It's _family_ , something he's distinctly unaccustomed to.

Heisuke leans his head up, laughing at the attempted tag on the hood of the car, a grin slashed across his face. “Okay, _what_ the fuck is that supposed to be?”

“It's a wolf,” Motomu doesn't look up from paint in front of him, brow furrowing further with both Heisuke and Yuda start laughing. The cigarette they were sharing is stubbed out between them now and Yuda leans on his knees for a better angle.

“Looks like a bear with five dicks to me,” he laughs, making an effort to point them each out before Motomu slaps his hand away, an empty can of spray paint dropping next to his foot. Yuuji is laughing right along with them and Kentarou tilts his head to the side, staring.

Well, it doesn't _not_ look like a bear with five dicks, he supposes. Heisuke leans his shoulders back on the wood behind him, the grain of it scratching the back of his jacket. The leather is old, worn in well, and Kentarou doubts he cares. “Don't see why you keep wasting your money on all that paint and shit.”

The dragging sound of claws against metal makes Kentarou cringe, and Motomu wavers for a minute, staring down at Heisuke and Yuda, weighing his options.

He turns to Kentarou instead, brow furrowed, using a hand to shove at his shoulder. “You think it's funny too, pup?”

There isn't _quite_ a smile on his face, but what is there falls away quickly, leaving him leaning back slightly to put more space between them. It's hard—backing down isn't something that comes naturally to him, and he can feel the shiver of a snarl building in his stomach in response.

It's a contradiction when someone _does_ pick a fight with him. Backing down makes him _weak_ , a pup, a bitch, stuck in his spot at the very bottom of everything exactly how he deserves to be. But he's not meant to win either, not really. Kentarou isn't a bad fighter, through a combination of brute force and sheer stubbornness, but _winning_ seems to only serve to make whoever he beat sulky and annoyed with him for days after.

And so he tenses and says nothing, feeling the outward press of claws from the tips of his own fingers, the screaming demands of the animal in his head to stand up and _fight_. Motomu's lip curls over a snarl, and there's an obvious sharpening of his teeth, and Kentarou…

“Knock it off,” Heisuke's voice is sharp and clear, and it takes a moment to settle in but Motomu's shoulders lower, and he shakes his head like he's trying to clear it and sulks off to the other side of the car he was tagging, digging his still extended claws into the dry rubber of the tire. It takes even more time for Kentarou to relax, the hammering of his pulse slowing down.

“He'd beat you anyway,” Yuda grins, looking like this is the best entertainment he could've hoped for. Motomu flips him off.

Kentarou doesn't shoot Heisuke a grateful glance until Motomu is distracted once more with his phone, wiggling himself across the grass until he's next to Yuda, flopping over, the top of his head against Yuda's thigh, snorting softly to himself. “You're such a dick.”

Yuda rolls his eyes and flicks him on the forehead. “Not my fault you're a hotheaded idiot.”

Heisuke catches the look Kentarou gives him with a slight grin and an upward jerk of his chin, and it's a kind of care that Kentarou isn't sure he's gotten from anyone before.

 

 

–

Kyoutani ditches practice _again_ and doesn't even have the courtesy to show up the next day with a black eye or an excuse, and Shigeru finds himself more annoyed by that than the contrite pouting or the constant stream of fighting.

At least, when he ditches because of injuries it seems like he _cares_.

Shigeru probably shouldn't care so much. He shouldn't be glaring at Kyoutani when they're stuck on the same side of the court together, fists clenched, jaw working to hold back an annoyed shout when he manages to bowl over Kunimi on his way to spike the ball. He hesitates when he lands, turning to watch Kindaichi pick Kunimi up like he's not sure what happened.

Shigeru swallows the anger back as best he can, sighing instead. “Are you alright, Kunimi?”

“I should probably sit out for awhile,” Kunimi offers, and Shigeru knows him well enough to read that little grin on his face, even if Kindaichi seems to miss it and bites at his lower lip.

“Do you need help over to the bench, Kunimi-kun?” He makes the offer _too_ sincerely and Kunimi looks pointedly away, shaking his head and loping over to sit on his own. Shigeru glances back at Kyoutani, still standing in the same spot, hands tucked into his shorts now.

“You should _apologize_ , you know,” his voice is sharp, more than bordering on impolite, and Kyoutani looks at him almost like he's confused. “If you're aware of the concept, that is.”

“I know how to fucking say sorry,” Kyoutani snaps in return and Shigeru rolls his eyes, turning to grab another ball to set just to give himself something else to look at other than the confused, surprised look on Kyoutani's face.

Shigeru does _not_ ask if he's okay. He doesn't care, not really.

It's later, though, when they're elbowing their way out of the gym, that he can't quite hold it anymore. He shoves Kyoutani to give himself enough space to get out and Kyoutani stumbles, then turns sharply on his heel, eyes wide.

“I don't get you,” Shigeru is certainly not going to be throwing the first punch if this comes down to a fight. Kyoutani, surprisingly, hesitates at that, and Shigeru continues. “You _hate_ this team, you can't even be bothered to show up and practice—why don't you just leave already?”

“I—” he opens his mouth to say something, then stops like he isn't sure. Well, Shigeru isn't in a hurry to get _anywhere_. “I don't hate it.”

There's something… confused in Kyoutani's expression, in a way that he can't entirely explain to himself, tempered with an openness, a vulnerability, that Shigeru doesn't expect to see from him, and now they're both hesitating. He tries to think of something to say that isn't rude or sharp, which is harder around Kyoutani than it is around other people. “Why don't you _act_ like it then, Kyoutani-kun?”

Kyoutani's face shutters up again, and he rolls his shoulders and starts walking once more before he even gives an answer, shifting the strap of his bag on his shoulder. “Not like any of _you_ want me here, either.”

He doesn't argue the point with Kyoutani. Not because he _agrees_ with it, but because Kyoutani is gone before he figures that out for himself.

 

 

–

Kentarou makes it home well into the night, not that it really matters. The house is silent and dark when he steps inside, stepping out of his shoes and nudging them into a neat line with his foot. Judging by the other pair sitting there, his dad is home, asleep or passed out, Kentarou doesn't check. He makes his way back to his room instead, volleyball shorts settled low on his hips and chest bare, still flushed pink from the run home from Yahaba's.

It hasn't been quite a week since he started stopping by to check on Yahaba in the evenings, and he still can't explain to himself why he's doing it to begin with. There hasn't been any real sign of the Towada brothers bothering with him again, and the first time was probably a fluke to begin with. He sets his bag by the door with a slow sigh, nudging the door shut with his heel until it clicks softly, falling face first on his bed from there and pulling his pillow down to press his face into it. He muffles a groan into the fabric, eyes squeezed shut.

Yahaba _pet_ him. Kentarou _let_ him do it. He can still feel the phantom pressure of Yahaba's fingers stroking between his ears, scratching at the back of his neck. He was grinning like an idiot, an empty plate of leftovers next to his hip, laughing softly when Kentarou leaned his head further into the touch. It felt nice, though, he's never had someone pet him before.

He's never actually spent any time around a human when he wasn't one himself. As a pack, they all shift together, whether they're wrestling or chasing rabbits or getting into fights—and before that, Kentarou was always by himself. He expected it to be different, being around a human, that the base instinct in the back of his brain that he knows as the wolf would be angry or dangerous.

Despite being slightly wary of Yahaba, it's been quiet for the most part. It likes being given food, and it's willing to let Yahaba pet him without too much protest. In a small way, Kentarou finds is reassuring that he's not an immediate danger to everyone that he might encounter.

He squeezes the pillow tighter, shaking his head against it slightly. Stupid, he's being stupid. It's not as though Yahaba actually likes anything about _him_. Yahaba hates him just as much as he always has, that much is clear. He'd probably think Kentarou was a monster if he actually knew what was going on. The thought makes his stomach twist around a sharp pang, rolling to the side and drawing his knees up toward his chest. It's not as if he could blame Yahaba for thinking something like that.

Kentarou thinks he's a monster all the time.


	2. no accident

_“You have to break your heart_

_Until it opens”_

-Rumi

 

* * *

 

The whole thing probably could have been avoided if Shigeru had paid more attention. He might have noticed the wear in the soles of his shoes before his foot nearly went through the bottom in the middle of landing after a serve, leaving him stumbling awkwardly in a way that would be hard _not_ to notice.

Oikawa turns and blinks at him twice before smiling, a little laughter in the upward tilt of his lips. “That's no good, Yahaba-chan! When was the last time you got new shoes?”

He shrugs, not because he's trying to avoid answering but because he doesn't actually _remember_ when that was. Oikawa's eyebrow twitches upward in response, and he crosses his arms over his chest while he waits for an answer. Seeing that Shigeru doesn't really have one he chuckles softly, rubbing the back of his head. “I guess I'll have to go this afternoon.”

“I wanted to look at new knee pads anyway,” Oikawa doesn't seem to care about the fact that he's obviously inviting himself along when there's no need for him to be going. Shigeru rolls his eyes in response because not much else could be expected from Oikawa to begin with, but he gets glared at when he lines up for another jump serve. “Not with those shoes, Yahaba-chan! Go do some receives with Kyoken-chan.”

It takes everything that Shigeru has in him not to _sigh_ at that because he knows why Oikawa is forcing him and Kyoutani into working with each other whenever he gets the chance. If Oikawa meant to be subtle about grooming Shigeru into taking over for him as captain, he's doing a terrible job of it. He's pretty sure other teams know it by now, let alone their other second years.

Shigeru doesn't like thinking of himself as the obvious choice. He isn't even a regular on the court, thanks to Oikawa's incredible skills as a setter, and the team has such a deep bench that it's hard for him to feel right about the extra attention that being the team's backup nets him. It sits heavy and wrong in the pit of his stomach like he's being handed something that he didn't really earn in the first place.

Kyoutani, predictably, is in a surly mood. Shigeru's not sure if he's ever seen Kyoutani Kentarou in anything _but_ a surly mood. Still, he follows after Shigeru when he drags a cart full of balls over, setting up on the other side of the net, hunched low, arms loose in front of him. He's refused to work with _anyone_ the last several days, apparently content instead to spike against the wall as hard as he possibly can.

('As hard as he possibly can' as it turns out is sort of terrifying to watch, not that Shigeru is going to say anything about it.)

“Ready?” Shigeru raises both eyebrows at him, rolling his eyes when Kyoutani simply grunts rather than giving him an actual answer. He settles for serving over the net _without_ jumping since he doesn't want to get more of Oikawa scolding him about his stupid shoe.

For a moment, it doesn't seem like Kyoutani is even _watching_ the ball—he stands and stares at Shigeru instead before moving quickly under it, putting his arms together and throwing his weight into the receive. It seems a little ridiculous—it's not as if Shigeru served it _that hard_ , and he sends it sailing back over the net in a much higher arc than he probably would have liked.

It gives Shigeru enough time to move with the ball, though, sending it back across with slightly less power, hoping it drops on the other side of the net right in Kyoutani's face.

He's being vindictive, he knows, and it's worse not having any _reason_ behind it. It's like there’s an aura of frustration that hangs around Kyoutani and bleeds into Shigeru's moods every time. The ball does fall neatly toward the front of the court, making Kyoutani have to dive for it with a growl.

The ball goes up, but only high enough to hit the bottom of the net before bouncing on the floor next to Kyoutani's shoulder. He looks at it with a glare on his face, picking himself up slowly. “It was too low.”

“One point for me,” Shigeru shrugs, because he's apparently _not_ too big to make a competition out of everything involving Kyoutani. Kyoutani's eyes narrow slightly, and there's something… odd to the way he flexes his jaw, like he's gnashing his teeth around steel. He turns away after a moment, tossing the ball back over the net to Shigeru and shaking his head with a huff.

“Whatever.” This time when he sets up for the receive his hands are clenched into tight fists in front of him and his eyes are locked to the ball in Shigeru's hands. He serves it over again, harder this time, gritting his teeth just a little when Kyoutani picks it up just as fast as he did the first one.

But it's easy to see that he's on edge already, and this time when he sends the ball flying through the air it hits a foot past the line, and Shigeru snorts softly to himself.

“Two points, I guess,” he shrugs, turning to pick up another ball. Kyoutani's forehead scrunches in response.

“Fuck you.” It's not loud enough to really be called _shouting_ , but it's close. Loud enough that it grabs Oikawa's attention from the other court.

“Language, please,” he sing songs, but there's something serious in his eyes when he looks over to evaluate them both. “Do you need a break, Kyoken-chan?”

“No,” Kyoutani snaps before the nickname is even out of Oikawa's mouth. His lip curls slightly over his teeth, like he really is going to start _growling_ at them. “I'm _fine_.”

It would probably be more effective if he wasn't letting every word slip through his teeth. Oikawa frowns slightly at that, and Shigeru doesn't miss the half second where his eyes dart over to Iwaizumi. There's a tension to both of them that wasn't there a moment ago, palpable enough for it to make even Shigeru stand up a little bit straighter, digging his fingers into the ball balanced in his hand.

Iwaizumi stares for a moment, scowling, but apparently decides not to say anything because he turns back to talking to Hanamaki with a tiny shrug of his shoulders.

Curious, Shigeru turns back to hitting balls over for Kyoutani to receive, filing it away in the back of his mind.

When practice finishes, Shigeru is _almost_ able to slip out without Oikawa noticing, but as soon as he reaches the door he's caught. “Yahoo! Wait up, Yahaba-chan.”

With a small sigh, he complies, standing by the side of the door and watching Oikawa loop his bag over his shoulder. Iwaizumi glances up from his locker, tapping his knuckles against Oikawa's shoulder with a small furrow between his brows. “Oi. Don't keep the underclassmen out too late.”

“So serious, Iwa-chan! Would you like to come with us? I'll buy you a treat,” Oikawa waggles his eyebrows on the word 'treat' and Iwaizumi scoffs at him, turning away.

“Why would I want that from you? I'm just telling you to make sure Yahaba-kun gets home,” he sighs, banging the door to his locker closed. Oikawa laughs, bumping his own hand against Iwaizumi's shoulder before walking away.

Shigeru almost finds himself surprised by Oikawa _actually_ walking over to the sports store with him. It always seems like he should have better things to do than running errands with a second-year—but, true to his word, Oikawa helps him in picking out a new pair of volleyball shoes, and drags him over to debate on buying new knee pads that he eventually decides against after talking himself into and then out of them twice.

He used to find spending _any_ time on his own with Oikawa overwhelming, but he's becoming more and more comfortable around the once intimidating setter. Oikawa hums softly when they leave the store, looking up at the moon hanging bright and heavy in the almost dark sky, laughing. “Oops! Iwa-chan is gonna be annoyed with me. Let me walk home with you, okay Yahaba-chan?”

“Ah, it's not that big a deal,” he shrugs, waving his wrist, looking around. “You have to go the other way, don't you?”

“I would be a bad captain if I made you walk by yourself, obviously,” he smiles, setting off in the direction of Shigeru's house without waiting for any further argument. Shigeru sighs softly, following after him, jogging the first few steps to catch up.

They barely get out of the shopping center when Oikawa hesitates a step, staring at the group of boys loitering outside of a convenience store with a small frown on his face. It takes Shigeru a moment to realize why—he spots the familiar bleach blond hair with the stupid stripes shaved into it and _almost_ sighs. Kyoutani glances up at them then quickly back down, shoulders leaning on the bricks of the store behind him. The other high school student is seated on the sidewalk by his foot, wearing a bright yellow jersey with his hands tucked into his pockets.

The other three Shigeru only recognizes in more vague terms as the people Kyoutani seems to hang around. Two of them are leaning on the trash can that stands outside the door, elbows balanced on the plastic cover, leaning close together to look at something on the screen of a phone. The third is leaning with his back against a lamp post, a lit cigarette hanging loosely from two of his fingers. He's facing toward the four others. He must see the way Kyoutani's eyes dart over to Oikawa because he looks up with a grin that slashes lopsided on his face. “Yo.”

Oikawa's eyes narrow slightly, and Shigeru isn't sure if he wants to be annoyed or concerned about what that expression usually means from Oikawa. He brightens into an easy, charming smile a second later. “Kyoken-chan! Is this where you run off to after practice?”

Kyoutani looks up, evident surprise on his face from actually being addressed by Oikawa. His gaze lingers, falling on Shigeru for just a moment before he shrugs his shoulders. “I guess.”

“Well,” Oikawa continues smiling, and despite Kyoutani's withdrawn aura, doesn't look to any of the other boys that have turned to stare at him. “You should be getting home now—it's starting to get dark. There's a lot of unsavory characters around at night.”

The guy leaning on the lamp post laughs at that, nudging the toe of his boot against Kyoutani's foot, raising both eyebrows with his grin only getting wider. “Kyoken, eh?”

“I- it's a stupid nickname,” he huffs, turning away quickly with red staining his cheeks. The guy chuckles before standing up straight, giving Oikawa a glance up and down before taking a long drag off his cigarette and blowing smoke vertically into the air.

“Well, ya don't gotta worry about it. We'll make sure Kentarou gets home safe.” There's something in the way that he says it that annoys Shigeru more than Kyoutani shrinking back and avoiding eye contact does. He's never heard _anyone_ call Kyoutani by his given name either, especially not with such familiarity. He frowns and Oikawa tenses as well. Shigeru watches his fingers curl into a fist.

“It's getting late, and if he's coming to one of my practices he'll need plenty of rest,” his tone is just as bright as it was before, but there's a _look_ in his eyes that Shigeru has never seen before. He tilts his chin upward at an angle, and the guy frowns suddenly at that.

“H- Heisuke—” Kyoutani mumbles the name out, letting out a small sigh when he gets a glare for it, teeth setting together in a hard line before he looks over at Oikawa. “I'm fine here.”

“Ah, how convincing,” Oikawa drops the flowery tone and Shigeru wonders if he should be frantically calling Iwaizumi at this point. Heisuke steps forward until he's in Oikawa's space, eye to eye, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his heel.

“There you go. He's fine,” the words are low, and Shigeru's stomach turns. He doesn't send any kind of glance at Kyoutani, gripping his hands into fists in his pockets. “And I don't need some high schooler telling me what to do, so why don't you fuck off?”

Oikawa, surprisingly, seems to be far from intimidated. He smiles, just like he does before slamming a jump serve down on the other side of the court. It's becoming just one more disturbing normality in Shigeru's life—watching the captain of his team pick a fight with a local thug. “You should be careful,” Oikawa's tone is level, measured, almost _bored_ , “that you don't pick a fight with an animal who has bigger teeth than you.”

Shigeru blinks, confused, especially when Heisuke's face plummets from a smirk into a frown. The snickering of the boy seated next to Kyoutani stops short, and even Kyoutani himself looks up to stare at Oikawa. The two by the trash can shift, standing straight and inching closer toward Oikawa. Shigeru catches the way his eyes flick over to them though he simply shrugs his shoulders and tucks his hands into his pockets, taking one easy step to the side and walking past Heisuke, jerking his chin lightly at Shigeru to follow him.

He can _feel_ Kyoutani staring as he goes by, and he turns to give him a glare in return but the expression on Kyoutani's face surprises him. He doesn't look _angry_ , even as much as he usually does, he looks _scared_.

Shigeru didn't expect to see someone like Kyoutani look so small.

 

 

 

–

It's still two days yet to the actual full moon, but Kentarou has more energy coiled in his stomach than he knows what to do with. It's hard to be sure of what kind of things will set the wolf off at this point in the month, but right now it isn't angry, it just wants to _run_ , to fight, to find ways to show off how strong and powerful it is.

And, well, maybe it's bleeding over into Kentarou's mind more than usual because he finds himself tracking down Yahaba during lunch, hands stuffed into his pockets with a ball under his arm. He hovers for a moment, watching Watari and Yahaba laugh about something over their food until he's noticed and Yahaba looks at him with a frown. “Are you lost, Kyoutani-kun?”

They are not off to a good start, it seems. He huffs, shaking his head and resisting the urge to snap right back at him. “ _No,_ I wanted you to toss for me.”

The way Yahaba's face freezes in surprise is a victory of its own. He glances at the ball Kentarou has, eyebrows pinching together. “ _You_ want to practice with _me_?”

“That's what I said,” he tilts his chin down toward his collarbone, huffing. This was a stupid idea. He should've known better than to think Yahaba would actually agree to work with him.

Except, Yahaba frowns slightly, shooting Watari a glance before standing, dusting his slacks on and setting his lunch down, nodding his head. “As long as you're not going to beat me up behind the gym, sure.”

“Why the fuck would I do that?” He sighs because Yahaba apparently thinks the worst possible things of him at all times, but he passes the ball over and follows Yahaba to an open stretch of grass by one of the buildings with nothing more than a shake of his head. Yahaba shrugs, spinning the ball between his fingers.

“I dunno. Maybe your gang put a hit on me and Oikawa-san,” he laughs when he says it but Kentarou pokes his tongue at the inside of his teeth. Heisuke certainly hasn't gotten the _best_ impression of his team so far.

“It's not a _gang_ ,” he snaps instead, nodding when Yahaba holds the ball up and raises an eyebrow, asking if he's ready. “They're my _friends_.”

“They don't seem very _friendly_ ,” Yahaba shakes his head as he sets the ball. It's a clean, easy one—not too high and it fits the center of Kentarou's palm perfectly when he leaps up to spike it. It slaps against the brick wall with a satisfying sound and he lands with his palm stinging, flexing his hand.

“Well, not to _you_ maybe.” So much for trying not to fight with Yahaba. He has a look on his face like Kentarou just shoved a lemon into his mouth as he grabs the ball, but Kentarou keeps talking. “But they care about me.”

Unlike anybody else he knows.

There's a small frown on Yahaba's face, a furrow in his brow, but he shrugs his shoulders and sets the ball again. It's higher this time, and Kentarou has to put more into his jump to meet it, but he slams it down with the same zeal and it makes the wolf in the back of his head practically howl with enjoyment. It bounces back to Yahaba's feet and Kentarou nods. “Again.”

 

They continue like that for the rest of their lunch hour, with Yahaba giving him sets at different heights and speeds and Kentarou crushing each one into the wall. He's panting by the time they finish, wiping his forehead on his sleeve and almost grinning because the exercise was _exactly_ what he needed. Yahaba tosses the ball lightly back to him and his brow furrows again.

“You know,” he sounds slightly uncertain, less annoyed than Kentarou is used to. “You're a part of this team too.”

“Obviously,” he rolls his eyes, and Yahaba makes a small, frustrated sound.

“So _we_ care about you too. Even if you're an _asshole_ ,” he crosses his arms over his chest and frowns. Kentarou finds himself staring in response, entirely uncertain how he's supposed to respond to that.

The tips of his ears feel hot.

“Whatever,” he snorts after a moment, slinging his bag over his shoulder and turning to go to class.

 

 

 

–

Kentarou has never been very skilled at coming up with excuses. He lacks experience—it's rare people ask enough about what he's doing for him to require a lie. And so, when he stands up just after it’s gotten dark, giving Heisuke a little nod and tucking his hands into his pockets, it's hard to make something roll off his tongue with ease. “I gotta go home.”

Heisuke blinks at him twice, eyebrows creeping together in surprise. Kentarou shuffles slightly on the spot, nudging the toe of his shoe into the soft ground, hoping that doesn't come with too many questions. He doesn't have an answer to any, especially because he's not really going home to begin with.

But, even if they're his pack, he's not ready to explain whatever it is that drags him to hang outside of Yahaba's house in the evenings to make sure he's safe. There hasn't been a single sign of the Towada siblings actually having any real interest in Yahaba, and in fact, Kentarou hasn't seen either of them since the fight. For the most part, he's not sure that he's _scared_ for Yahaba's safety either.

He just—wants to be close to him. Even if he can't explain it to himself.

“For what?” Yuda laughs softly, leaning back on his palms. Kentarou shrugs his shoulders first because sometimes people are more willing to take that than they are real answers, but it only makes Yuda laugh once more. He and Motomu are leaning on the boat skeleton once again, with Heisuke stretched out on the hood of the car that Motomu _tried_ to tag, scraping the paint off with his nails. “Is your _captain_ gonna scold you again?”

Kentarou huffs at that, puffing his chest out slightly and shaking his head. “Who cares what he has to say.”

“No reason to rush off then, right?” Heisuke looks up, digging the crumpled carton of cigarettes he keeps out of his pocket, spinning one between his fingers with a hum. “Sit.”

He tries to think of _some_ kind of argument but ends up back in the spot he was already occupying, grass flattened down already. Heisuke nods, lighting the cigarette and blowing rings of smoke into the air above his head with a small laugh. “You've been racing off a lot lately. Got a girlfriend now, pup?”

“No,” he growls, leaning his chin on his knees and feeling the tips of his ears heat up. It's not fair that the first person who pops into his head is Yahaba—the two of them aren't even _friends_ , let alone dating. “I don't care about all that drama and shit.”

It's not like any of _them_ are out dating either. Yuda laughs, slinging his arm around Motomu's neck and squeezing him into a headlock, ruffling his hand through the overly neat slick of his hair, making a mess out of it. “Careful! You'll end up all alone like Moto-chan!”

“Fuck off,” Motomu snaps immediately in return, trying to shove his way free. Yuda squeezes him tighter, shaking his head. Motomu growls when he finds he can't pull himself free, shoving at Yuda's side instead. Yuda lets him go only to shove back at him.

It's only a moment of snarling and shoving before they both go rolling across the grass, snapping at each other with teeth that sharpen by the moment. Heisuke sits up on his elbows to watch, a slight frown on his face. He makes no move to separate the two of them, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette.

Yuda winds up on top, wiping blood away from his mouth either from biting at Motomu or a stray hit to the jaw, Kentarou isn't sure, and Motomu turns his head to the side to growl at the squashed grass instead, as close to admitting defeat as he ever gets. Yuda rolls his eyes, covering Motomu's mouth with one hand, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of his hand before patting his cheek and sliding off to let him sit up. Heisuke laughs, shaking his head at the both of them and blowing out more smoke as he does.

“You two done?” He grins, watching Yuda poke at the missing shell of Motomu's left ear. Kentarou isn't sure what kind of fight he lost that much in, but the upper half has been missing as long as he's known the three of them. Motomu bats Yuda's hand away, huffing an annoyed breath through his teeth and shaking his head.

“Whatever. Can we do something?” he snaps, hunching his shoulders inward in an obvious attempt to make himself seem a little smaller. Kentarou, for his part, stays quiet, chin still resting on his knees, wondering if he should just try to slip away again and make an excuse about a test he just remembered. There're a few bruises along his arms from getting into a wrestling match with Yuuji before he went home, and he's not looking to get into another one if he can help it. Oikawa has started paying a little too much attention to each and every time he shows up after a fight, or teasing him about having new piercings in his ears (courtesy of Yuda).

It's strange, and he's not entirely sure how he's supposed to take it, just like he's not sure how he's supposed to take Yahaba claiming the rest of the team cares about him as well. He tightens his arms around his legs slightly further, turning it over and over in his head, trying to make sense of it.

“Full moon is tomorrow, just chill for now,” Heisuke rolls his eyes, then glances down at Kentarou with both of them raised. “Don't sulk, kid. We can find ya a girlfriend.”

“I don't need a girlfriend,” he rolls his eyes, shooting Heisuke a glare but uncurling himself anyway. It's a bad habit in body language, the natural instinct to make himself as small as he can. Heisuke has said before it's one of the reasons that Yuuji and Motomu are so quick to pick on him because he always makes himself look like prey.

He squares his shoulders instead, tries to look more relaxed than he feels, stretching his legs out in front of him rather than sitting with them curled to his chest.

 

There isn't a better chance to leave before it gets well and truly dark, and Heisuke rolls his shoulders in a shrug and tells him to be careful heading home. Kentarou nods, jogging his way home to ditch his bag and practice gear so he won't have to worry about all of it when he shifts, before making his way to Yahaba's.

Surprisingly, despite the late hour, Yahaba is still awake. Kentarou has noticed that he stays up late to study a lot, even though he never really seems tired during practice. He settles himself by the edge of the front porch like he always does, laying his head on his paws.

Less than ten minutes later, Yahaba is stepping outside in his pajamas, a plate of food in his hands and a small smile on his face. Kentarou likes it—he's not entirely used to seeing Yahaba smiling at him during the day. He perks his head up once the food has been set down, nibbling pieces of chicken into his mouth with a soft, pleased huff of sound.

Yahaba reaches toward his ears, less hesitant than in the past, and touches them only after Kentarou doesn't draw away from the contact. It's strange, feeling the wolf in the back of his mind get more and more accustomed to Yahaba, even with a full moon so close. It's a stronger voice now than usual, looking for food or a fight, giving him more energy to burn during the day than he knows what to do with. He's gone from asking Yahaba to help him practice to simply running through his lunch hour, trying to make himself calm enough to sit through his classes.

When he can help it, he tries not to let being a monster get in the way of school.

The touch of Yahaba's fingers over his ear is soft, and they drift to the base and scratch there for a moment. He leans his head slightly into it, lifting it away from the food in favor of the contact. It makes Yahaba laugh softly, stroking over the top of his head.

“You're late, you know.” He doesn't sound sharp or irritated, the way Kentarou is all too used to him saying those words. He's amused instead, still petting Kentarou's head. “I suppose you have your own schedule, though, huh?”

He can't _actually_ roll his eyes as a wolf, but internally he certainly does. He doesn't mind Yahaba chatting with him like this. Sometimes he brings his books outside and studies while Kentarou watches, mumbling to himself about the material. Oddly, those are the times Kentarou most wishes he could give an actual answer because Yahaba is just _terrible_ at algebra and clearly needs his help.

Not that he's going to offer it, of course. He's pretty sure if he asked Yahaba to study together he'd get laughed into his grave. Yahaba's made it plenty clear that he doesn't think Kentarou is very bright, and it's not like he's going to spend much time debating their grades.

It doesn't matter anyway. He pulls his head away from Yahaba's hand with a flick of his ear, returning to eating instead. The wolf, for a moment, is surprised by the loss of contact, but its attention is grabbed quickly by the food instead and Kentarou is glad for it.

Yahaba goes back inside some time after he finishes eating and returns to laying next to the porch instead. Kentarou is surprised to find his own eyes starting to drift shut. It's not often that the wolf allows him to fall asleep in strange places—even the bus after practice matches is a struggle for him. Despite being exhausted like the rest of them he usually spends the time sitting awake or staring out the window. It's worse when someone gets stuck sitting next to him though usually he's left a wide enough berth that he doesn't have to worry about it.

Lurching to his feet, he shakes himself off and yawns once as he checks that the light in Yahaba's room is off before making his way home.

 

 

 

–

Kyoutani is probably the most fired up at practice that Shigeru has _ever_ seen him. He spikes every single ball with his whole body, pouring all of his power into it and making most of them spring out of bounds because of it. He gets more and more frustrated with each lost point until he's practically heaving with rage, nails digging into his palms, mouth slightly open around each breath.

They're near to the end of practice, and Kindaichi and Kunimi are shooting him concerned looks while they gather the balls he's been hitting, and Iwaizumi and Oikawa are discussing something quietly in the corner. Shigeru nearly jumps when Watari pats his shoulder, brow furrowing as he tears his eyes off of Kyoutani.

“Help me take the net down,” Watari hums, apparently undisturbed by their nearly feral teammate. Shigeru isn't surprised by that, at least. He hasn't found anything yet that can truly bother Watari. For the most part, it makes him a good best friend to have, but it also makes him annoying on occasions like these when there's _clearly_ something to be worried about.

Still, he helps Watari break down the net without saying anything, only shooting a _few_ more glances than usual in Kyoutani's direction. He seems to be trying to calm himself down, though it's by sitting on the bench with his head hanging between his shoulders, making no effort to _help_ anyone clean up.

He's finished sticking the net in the storage closet when he notices Oikawa sit down next to Kyoutani. Teeth digging into the inside of his lip he finds himself hesitating, trying to catch whatever it is that Oikawa is saying. He's not sure that Kyoutani has been enough trouble to be getting kicked off the team _now_ , but there's a frown on Oikawa's face and a serious look in his eyes.

He probably hasn't noticed Shigeru eavesdropping, because he doesn't make a particular effort to keep his voice low.

“You know, Kyoken-chan,” he hums, voice light despite the look on his face. “You really need to be more careful about where you make your bed.”

“I dunno what you mean,” Kyoutani huffs, turning slightly away like he knows exactly what Oikawa means. Even Shigeru knows, after that little run in with his gang. He's surprised Oikawa waited _this_ long to say something about it, even.

“You can't lie with scorpions and expect them not to sting you,” he huffs, and then a grin takes over his face. It isn't a kind one. “Though, I suppose a different animal might make the analogy clearer, hmm?”

Kyoutani's head whips around, and his eyes are wide, brows pinched together. Shigeru isn't sure if the expression is made of more shock or anger, but he seems not to know what to say in return to that. Oikawa nods his head, patting Kyoutani's shoulder.

“Regardless of _what_ kind of animal—you have to remember what's in their nature,” he raises an eyebrow before continuing. “And what's in _yours_.”

Kyoutani, if it were even possible, tenses further. He looks like he's expecting Oikawa to take a swing at him, and Oikawa has his chin tilted upward slightly, frowning now. Shigeru isn't sure how the two of them are going to resolve the tension, but it snaps when the doors swing open on the other side of the gym, Iwaizumi walking back in with a frown on his face. “Oi! You better not be—”

He stops when he sees Kyoutani, brow furrowing, looking at Oikawa with a frown. Kyoutani's tense position shatters and he drops his shoulders, curling in on himself just slightly, hands balled into fists in his lap. Iwaizumi sees him, glances once more at Oikawa, then sighs. “Go home, Kyoutani-kun.”

“So kind today, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa chirps, standing up himself before Kyoutani moves. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, jabbing at Oikawa with his elbow once he gets close enough.

“He hasn't done anything, leave the kid alone,” he sounds less irritated than Shigeru would expect, and Kyoutani stays still as the two of them walk away, teeth grit together but not interrupting them speaking as if he isn't there at all.

“It's not _him_ that I'm worried about,” Oikawa huffs, just before the doors bang shut behind them.

And it leaves Shigeru alone in the gym with an irritated Kyoutani.

“You can quit _hiding_ ,” Kyoutani huffs, pivoting and staring over his shoulder at Shigeru pressed next to the storage closet. He sighs an annoyed breath through his teeth in response.

“I'm not hiding,” he wrinkles his nose in irritation, even though that’s pretty much _exactly_ what he was doing. Kyoutani glares at him in response, picking himself up and shaking his head.

“Whatever.”

They seem to be walking away from one another like this a lot lately. Shigeru rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “You know Oikawa-san isn’t _trying_ to piss you off.”

“I’m pretty sure he is,” Kyoutani stops, though, rather than just storming away. Shigeru shrugs, trying to take advantage of the small moment that he has.

“I mean, probably a little, but,” he quirks a small smile, and Kyoutani actually _looks_ at him now. “He’s also trying to be a good captain. You have to know that those guys look like trouble.”

They weren’t exactly the most polite either, but Shigeru decides to keep it to himself for the moment. Kyoutani frowns, and he seems to be turning something over in his head for a moment before he shrugs. “They’re none of his business. I’m here, aren’t I? That’s all he should be worried about.”

The dig that it’s also all Shigeru should be worried about isn’t lost, he just decides to ignore it. “You’re part of _his_ team, that’s why he’s worried.”

Kyoutani frowns, but Shigeru cuts him off before he opens his mouth again. “I know, I know. Whatever.”

“That’s _not_ what I was going to say,” he crosses his arms, but there’s an upward quirk at the corner of his lips. Shigeru is pretty sure he’s never seen Kyoutani smile; he wonders if that’s as close as it gets. “I don’t need him worrying about me.”

“How is it you get beat up so much?” He’s out on a limb with this one, and Kyoutani’s almost-smile vanishes instantly. Shigeru stands straighter, though, because despite all the evidence of fights, he’s never heard of a single person Kyoutani has _actually_ gotten into it with. He’s the source of rumors, of course, that he went to juvie instead of middle school, that he’s in some kind of punk band, that he got suspended in his first year for beating up the old volleyball captain.

The truth of him seems to be much smaller, and he just shakes his head and huffs a little growl through his teeth. “It’s no big deal.”

Some small part of Shigeru is surprised that there isn’t some kind of threat for asking about it. Kyoutani looks guarded, for sure, and Shigeru wasn’t expecting to be given a real answer to the question, but it’s strange that a boy who so clearly knows his way around a fight _doesn’t_ so much as clench his hands into fists.

There’s a series of electronic beeps from Kyoutani’s bag and he jumps like the sound surprises him before digging his cellphone out of it. He stares at whatever the message is, brow furrowing, before grunting and closing it again. “I gotta go.”

It’s the closest thing to a real good-bye he’s ever gotten from Kyoutani. He nods his head slightly, watching Kyoutani turn and jog out the door, still in his practice clothes.

 

 

 

\--

“Geez, how long do you guys practice for?” Yuuji laughs when Kentarou _finally_ shows up. Not the scrapyard this time, but a small clearing in the woods where they meet for full moons. He can feel the itch of it under his skin, even if the sun hasn’t fully set quite yet. Yuuji bumps their fists together before crossing his arms over his chest again.

He seems unable to sit entirely still, bouncing his foot without pause. It’s not a surprise--despite Kentarou being the youngest in age and the newest to the pack itself, Yuuji was the most recently turned and full moons are still stressful for him. His nose wrinkles and twitches when Kentarou sits, adjusting to the scent. He’s already taken the piercings out of his ears (and probably his tongue as well), and Kentarou makes sure to do the same before he forgets. His are newer, and still sore when he takes each stud out of the cartilage of his ear.

“Where are they at?” He tilts his head when he asks. He can feel the dull pressure of instinct in the back of his head, a more true way to keep the time until his body is _forced_ to change. Yuuji shrugs.

“Heisuke said he wanted to check something out before it got dark,” he worried his teeth against his lip when he finishes speaking. Kentarou rolls his eyes slightly at the obvious nerves, leaning his shoulder lightly against the edge of Yuuji’s. He’s not used to having to comfort anyone, and most pack gestures are still new and confusing for him, but he figures it’s the right thing to do when Yuuji sighs slightly and leans back into him, fingers twitching in his lap. “It gets easier, right?”

“Yeah,” Kentarou responds because it’s really not a lie. Full moons _have_ gotten easier for him over time, and even easier still now that he’s not spending them on his own. He used to worry that he would snap, or seek out someone and hurt them, and before the pack he used to slink off and lock himself into abandoned buildings overnight. “You get used to it. It starts to hurt less too.”

Yuuji nods, lifting his head at the sound of feet crackling over branches. Kentarou does the same, watching Heisuke emerge from the trees, with Yuda and Motomu directly behind him. He isn’t smiling, and it sets the hackles of the wolf on end, the aura that surrounds the three of them. He narrows his eyes down at Kentarou, hands tucked into his pockets. “So. Is there something you wanna tell me?”

He can taste his heartbeat in the back of his mouth and his mind rockets straight to Yahaba, but he shakes his head slowly. Heisuke snorts, nodding his head sharply. “Alright. If you wanna go be somebody’s bitch every night, keep at it.”

Kentarou can feel his own eyes going wide, and the surprised sound that Yuuji makes next to him is no better. He swallows, ducking his head between his shoulders. “I just… wanted to make sure the Towada siblings weren’t going to bother him again.”

His lies are always bad ones, and Motomu laughs. “Shit, he’s practically a lap dog, isn’t he?”

“I told you,” Yuda chuckles in return, and both of them pull him up to his feet, still laughing. “He’s a pet. He’d probably let this kid take him for walks around the block on a leash.”

There’s a burn from the line of his hair down to his chest, and Kentarou hates how easy it is to make him blush like this. Yuuji is laughing as well, but softer, an edge of confusion to it. Heisuke is the only one who doesn’t join in. Instead, he lays his hand softly on the back of Kentarou’s shoulder and shakes his head. “He’s the one who pisses you off all the time, yeah? Just let it be.”

“We can take care of it if they do something,” Yuda grins a dangerous flash of teeth, slinging his arm around Kentarou’s other shoulder. “He’s probably just as soft as any other human, though, huh?”

Motomu and Heisuke both laugh and Kentarou flounders to put some kind of expression on his face.

It’s still true that Yahaba pisses him off. It’s also true that the idea of something happening to him makes his stomach twist into knots. He’s not sure what those two feelings mean.

His nails dig crescents into his palms and Heisuke pats his shoulder once more before dropping his arm. “Don’t sweat over it. You don’t gotta be somebody’s pet--that’s why you have us.”

Kentarou nods his head at the reminder and does his best not to think about Yahaba saying the same thing about the team. It’s different, and he can’t expect someone like Yahaba to understand him the same way a pack will.

They’ve been good to him; they’re his family. They’ll last him longer than any volleyball club will.


	3. unsteady

  _"Give me silence, water, hope_

_Give me struggle, iron, volcanoes."_

\- Pablo Neruda

* * *

 

The first thing Kentarou notices when he wakes up is not the fact that he's been sleeping half-naked in the forest with Yuuji using his stomach as a pillow, but the taste of blood thick in the back of his throat. He opens his eyes to stare at the light dappled canopy above his head. The sun has likely only just come up and Kentarou grunts and frees his arm from where it's caught under Yuda's side, flinging it over his face to block the light out. There's muffled laughter from somewhere nearby, enough for him to tell that the other two are awake.

He tries to shift, only to find that Yuuji is on top of his legs as well and nuzzling softly into the bare skin of his stomach. The feeling borders on ticklish and he shoves his way free enough to sit up with a grunt, shaking his head. It takes a little looking around before he catches sight of Heisuke and Motomu, rubbing at his eyes and trying to brush the stray leaves off the backs of his arms.

The two of them are leaning over the body of some kind of animal—more recognizable as a hunk of blood and meat than something that was once alive. It's been torn to pieces, left in half-furred chunks, and scattered. The scent of it alone is enough to make him feel unsettled, but coupled with the taste of blood still clinging to his tongue, his stomach rolls.

“W- what is that?” His voice rocks slightly as he speaks, shoving Yuuji all the way off of him to stand. He stuffs his hands into the hem of his shorts to hide their shaking, hunching his shoulders forward. Motomu turns to him with a laugh, holding what looks like an antler in one of his hands.

“Looks like we can do better than rabbits,” he grins, tossing the antler back next to the rest of the animal and leaning his head back on his palms instead. He raises both eyebrows when Kentarou continues staring. “Never had venison before?”

“It's a deer?” He blinks, not sure he would've recognized it on his own. The only things he can pick out from the mess are the antlers laying on the ground. Heisuke laughs, bumping their shoulders together as he goes by.

“Used to be. Don't get squeamish now, house pet,” he laughs, nudging Yuda awake with one foot, rolling his eyes when Yuda blinks up at him and then groans, promptly rolling over. “You've got class in an hour, asshole.”

“Fuck you,” he grumbles against the skin of his arm, yawning widely. “This is your fault anyway.”

They continue bickering, enough that it even wakes Yuuji up, blinking and yawning, but Kentarou feels frozen. He edges himself away from the deer, still clenching his hands into fists so tight that they ache, only releasing them to gather his clean clothes to walk back toward school with Yuuji.

He doesn't want to think about it—about the quick flashes of sense memory that shoot into his mind from the base of his spine; blood filling his mouth and running to the back of his throat, harsh, snarling sounds ripping through the air, the sense of running, of _chasing_ something…

He makes it halfway to school before he throws up.

Yuuji hops away with a yelp, eyes wide in surprise as Kentarou stands again, wiping his mouth on the back of his arm. “Are you okay?”

“I don't like blood,” he grunts, digging into the bottom of his bag for his water bottle from the day before, wrinkling his nose at the hot, stale taste of the water. He swishes it quickly between his cheeks before spitting that out as well, sticking it back in the bag. Yuuji blink, looming confused for a moment but shrugging his shoulders, rattling his piercing against his teeth as he thinks.

“It isn't that big a deal, is it?” He rubs at the back of his neck, his head tilting. “Heisuke said it's pretty much normal anyway. We're _supposed_ to be predators.”

Kentarou shrugs, defaulting to it. The idea of it settles wrong in his stomach like a stone, and it doesn't ease when he fails to come up with an answer, when they split ways with a bump of their fists that Kentarou almost shies away from.

He spends his whole day trying to rid himself of the weight. There are two thoughts constantly at war in the back of his mind—

They're his _family_.

But he doesn't want to _enjoy_ being a monster, either.

 

 

 

 

* * *

“D’ you have a moment, Yahaba-kun?” The soft tap of Iwaizumi’s hand on his shoulder is a surprise to Shigeru, enough that he almost drops his lunch when he turns around, smiling after giving himself a moment to relax.

“Um, sure.” It’s an awkward answer, and he steps slightly to the side so they aren’t standing in the middle of the hall. It’s better, he figures, than any of the times Oikawa has come to bother him over lunch. There aren’t a bunch of girls hovering and cooing over everything that Iwaizumi does, and judging from the nervous look on his face, Shigeru is sure Iwaizumi prefers it that way.

“Has Kyoutani-kun seemed strange to you this past week?” His brow furrows as he asks and Shigeru stumbles, surprised by the question. He’s not sure what he would’ve expected Iwaizumi to want to discuss with him, but that wasn’t really it. He rubs the back of his neck with a bark of laughter, nodding his head.

“Strange is sort of an understatement,” Shigeru supplies lamely, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. It's not a _lie_ by any means—Kyoutani has seemed tired, more than Shigeru is used to from him. Even during practice he seems to lack the energy to really put his all into what he's doing, and it's beyond frustrating to watch. He's obviously still _trying_ his hardest, but his spikes have nowhere near their usual power, and his receives are often confused or missed entirely.

But that's not the strangest of his behaviors, not the thing that currently has Shigeru blushing. “M- maybe he's getting sick?”

Iwaizumi frowns faintly at him, and Shigeru knows what kind of answer he’s looking for. Kyoutani has been… affectionate would be the word Shigeru would use, if he didn't know better. It seems like he has some active desire to be around Shigeru, and when he is, it's full of little touches that make him jumpy and unsettled. Kyoutani pats his shoulder, or punches it lightly. When they're waiting in the line up together, he leans his shoulder slightly into Shigeru's like he's trying to hold himself up better. If Shigeru is being honest, the sudden change is unnerving.

He’s started quietly joining Watari and Shigeru for lunch as well, sitting close enough that his knee prods the side of Shigeru’s leg, or that their arms sometimes brush while they eat. He’s probably gone red up to his hairline but he shakes his head. “I really don’t know why he’s acting differently.”

There’s an outright scowl on Iwaizumi’s face, one that makes Shigeru doubt his theory of Kyoutani coming down with the world’s most bizarre cold. He knows he _shouldn’t_ ask, that it’s none of his business but…

“You’re worried about him, Iwaizumi-senpai?” He asks softly, surprised when it’s Iwaizumi who stumbles at the question, waving a hand dismissively in the air and shaking his head.

“I- it’s not really that big a deal,” he grumbles, but he doesn’t sound entirely confident in that, not the way that Shigeru is used to hearing him sound. Shigeru isn’t sure how to answer that, with doubt sitting in the pit of his stomach. Oikawa is always teasing Iwaizumi about being a worrier, about going prematurely gray because of it, but…

Shigeru has never seen Iwaizumi seek someone out outside of practice to worry about them. He seems _uncomfortable_ with the topic, drumming his middle finger repeatedly against the center of his palm while he thinks. “But… if he _was_ going through something and he told you about it… you could come talk to me.”

Iwaizumi’s feet shuffle as he makes the offer, ducking his head slightly when Shigeru blinks, coughing an uncomfortable laugh. “T- that’s all. Enjoy your lunch, Yahaba-kun.”

He blinks, nodding his head as Iwaizumi turns to go, frowning to himself before continuing outside on his own to meet Watari and Kyoutani.

 _Should_ he be worrying more?

He doesn’t have an answer, even though he’s still turning the question over in his mind when he joins the two of them for lunch. He makes a deliberate effort to sit just slightly further from Kyoutani than he has been, blinking in surprise when Kyoutani simply grunts and shifts over towards him without saying anything. He seems perfectly content just on the edge of Shigeru’s space.

If Watari thinks something is strange about that he doesn’t let it show in his expression. Shigeru doesn’t lean one way or the other, untying the wrap around his lunch with a little hum.

“You’re not usually so late,” Watari blinks, eyebrows raised slightly, and Shigeru can feel the way his face goes a little warm at the implicit question. Kyoutani glances over, seeming interested as well, and when Shigeru looks up to meet his gaze it becomes suddenly obvious how _dark_ the circles under his eyes are.

He finds himself frowning at them, staring absently at Kyoutani’s face for a beat too long before he realizes he’s doing it, clearing his throat and looking quickly away. “I just… had to talk to Iwaizumi-san for a second.”

Shigeru only curses himself slightly for not even trying to come up with something better, and Watari’s eyebrows creep together for a moment, a curious shine in his eyes, the beginnings of a question he doesn’t ask quite yet. Instead, he simply nods, and Kyoutani grunts softly, lifting another piece of chicken to his mouth.

“Have you even been sleeping this week, Kyoutani-kun?” He keeps his voice light, teasing, the way he always addresses Kyoutani, and the glare he gets in return feels just a little rewarding. Kyoutani chews slowly, shrugging his shoulders.

It takes a moment for Shigeru to realize that that’s all the answer that Kyoutani is going to give him and he winds up scowling at his own rice. What else is he supposed to say? That he’s worried? That Iwaizumi is?

He’s not sure Kyoutani would believe him on either count.

“M’ fine,” Kyoutani grumbles after swallowing, setting his food down to yawn widely. He does lean to the side now, pressing just a little of his weight into Shigeru’s shoulder.

The weight of him there is oddly comforting, like this kind of closeness is something that’s already normal between the two of them. It’s _embarrassing_ though, and it makes Shigeru’s flush darken. Kyoutani’s eyes are shut though and after glancing at him he looks over to Watari, trying not to react to the way his best friend looks like he’s on the edge into bursting out laughing. Shigeru glances back down at the top of Kyoutani’s head, weighing his options. He could shove him off somehow, or he could just… stay like this.

He goes back to eating without complaining, listening to Watari talk about what’s happening on the superhero show that he likes.

 

 

 

 

* * *

It’s a surprise to Kentarou when he leaves school Monday afternoon to find Heisuke standing by the gates by himself. He hesitates a step, feeling pinned. He’s avoided the pack in the week since the last day of the full moon, not sure how to feel about them. Mostly he’s made excuses via text message about school or his dad being around, but they don’t exactly work as well with Heisuke regarding him like he is now.

He swallows a breath to steady himself, shifting his bag on his shoulder before walking the rest of the way out, ducking his head slightly. “Hey.”

“Still too busy for us, eh?” He grins, punching Kentarou’s shoulder lightly in greeting and laughing when he shrugs his shoulders with a little huff. His shoulders keep drooping even as he lifts his head up a little more.

“It’s just… school and stuff,” it’s not a _lie_ at least. He has been working on school work, and at practice, but Heisuke’s expression twists, somewhere between annoyed and disbelieving, still stretched around a grin.

“So you’re not too busy playing at being a pet still?” He chuckles like it’s a joke, but Kentarou can feel the heat creeping over the back of his neck, betraying that yes, he’s been doing exactly that.

He knows that from the outside it doesn’t make any sense, his attachment to spending his evenings on Yahaba’s porch. Hell, from the _inside_ it doesn’t make any sense. Heisuke clicks his tongue at the top of his mouth, disapproval evident, shaking his head. “I thought you were finished with that.”

“It’s not--” he starts, cutting himself off because he’s not really sure _how_ to answer that. He stuffs his hands into his pockets, slumping further. Heisuke rolls his eyes at Kentarou’s failure to actually come up with any _reason_ for what he’s doing, and he tries again, weaker this time. “I’m not anybody’s _pet_.”

And that is, of course, the moment that Yahaba leaves school as well. He’s by himself, unlike the usual days where he has Watari with him, but he slows when he notices Kentarou and Heisuke, a slight furrow in his brow. Kentarou glances at him then quickly away, a flush on his cheeks when Heisuke _laughs_ , not seeming to notice Yahaba hovering a few feet away. “You’re not gonna get any respect like that, y’know.”

In the corner of his vision, he can see the line of Yahaba’s shoulders go tense, one of his hands curling into a fist. He steps forward, past Heisuke like he’s not worth paying attention to, smiling at Kentarou in a way he usually doesn’t. “Kyoutani-kun! Thanks for waiting up, let’s go.”

He stares at Yahaba in confusion, because they definitely _don’t_ have plans together. He’s never seen Yahaba outside of school.

(At least as far as Yahaba is aware.)

The corners of Yahaba’s smile twitch and Heisuke raises both eyebrows, no longer grinning. “Big plans tonight, kid?”

“Just studying,” Yahaba twists to give Heisuke a look that isn’t quite a smile, reaching and hooking one hand around Kentarou’s arm, nails digging in slightly. He starts moving before Kentarou has time to actually argue with him or say anything to Heisuke, practically _dragging_ Kentarou down the sidewalk after him. He could probably pull his way free if he tried, but instead he stumbles along until they turn the corner and Yahaba’s pace slows, glancing over his shoulder like he’s expecting Heisuke to come charging around the corner after them.

Apparently relieved that he isn’t, Yahaba sighs, his nose wrinkling, hand still wrapped around Kentarou’s arm. “What a creep.”

“W- what the fuck?” He grumbles, but it doesn’t have the heat to it that he really wants. Yahaba looks at him and blinks, dropping his hand after a moment and shaking his head.

“You looked like you needed a way out,” he shrugs, and Kentarou _knows_ his ears are red when he shakes his head. He starts walking again, leaving Kentarou confused in the middle of the sidewalk until Yahaba looks over his shoulder and rolls his eyes. “Well? C’mon. We’re studying, aren’t we?”

Feeling a little stunned, Kentarou turns and follows Yahaba home.

Despite all the time he’s spent _outside_ , lurking in the shadows next to the porch, Kentarou has no idea what the _inside_ of the house looks like until he steps through the threshold after Yahaba, toeing his shoes off. The house is neat and, at the moment, quiet, even after Kentarou mumbles a soft _‘pardon the intrusion’_.

He knows where Yahaba’s room is, or at least where the window is, but he waits until Yahaba lines his shoes up and nods to one of the doors down the hallway with a soft grunt, indicating for Kentarou to follow him. He does, and they end up sitting on the floor of Yahaba’s room.

Kentarou tries not to make it obvious that he’s staring at Yahaba’s things, resisting the urge to crane his neck and look around. His desk is fairly tidy, the bed is made, and the bookshelf in the corner of the room seems to have some kind of organization to it. Yahaba catches him looking still and grins slightly, digging one of his books out of his bag. “Do you get this chapter in algebra at all?”

“Yeah,” Kentarou hums after a moment, finding himself still distracted wondering what he’s even doing here. He misses the next question that Yahaba asks him, too lost in trying to puzzle things out on his own, and gets flicked on the forehead for it. He leans back quickly, rubbing at the space with a snort, scowling in Yahaba’s direction. “You didn’t have to do this, you know.”

It comes out more sullen than he intends and Yahaba drops his hand with a blink, nails clicking softly as they hit the surface of the book spread out over his lap.

“I didn’t think I _had_ to do anything,” he snorts, rolling his eyes. “But we’re friends and you looked like you needed help.”

Kentarou opens his mouth to argue then finds himself snapping it shut once again when the word really sinks in. _Friends_. He hunches his shoulders slightly closer to his ears, trying to ignore the burning of his face. Instead of answering that, since he has no response, he glares down at the book and clears his throat awkwardly. “T- this one is polynomials, right?”

Yahaba groans before he nods his head, leaning over slightly to look at the messy notes Kentarou has. His penmanship is far from the best, and after looking at it for a moment Yahaba squints his eyes. “Everything is so _tiny_ , how do you read these?”

“I’m not blind,” Kentarou snorts, like that’s answer enough. He finds himself unintentionally leaning toward Yahaba as well, drawn to the warmth, the familiar smell of his skin and laundry soap, things even the beast in the back of his mind recognizes. Yahaba leans back again, blinking strangely before reaching out and tugging slightly at the collar of Kentarou’s shirt. He tries to lean away, not expecting it, only managing to reveal the bite mark on the side of his shoulder when the top button slides open at all the tugging. It’s ringed with bruises, and in fact the back of his right shoulder is mostly mottled with them from where he hit the ground wrestling around with Motomu.

He rolls his shoulder, trying to free his shirt from Yahaba’s grip, hissing a sharp breath between his teeth when Yahaba’s thumb presses the bruise. The indents are too sharp and deep to have been made by human teeth, and being partially healed has scabbed and blurred them further. Yahaba’s brow pinches together, tugging the shirt like he plans to pull it entirely off Kentarou’s shoulder. “What the _hell_ is all that?”

“It’s no big deal, I told you,” he snaps, batting Yahaba’s hands off now. Most of the damage will be gone by the time he crashes in bed anyway, it’s not if he’s hurt in any kind of lasting manner. Yahaba’s frown only gets deeper.

“That from your _friends_ too, Kyoutani-kun?” Yahaba doesn’t say his name with the teasing lilt he usually puts on it. Instead, it’s quick and angry, like he can’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough. Kentarou snorts, pulling his shirt back up and fixing the button to hold it closed.

“It’s just from rough housing, it’s not serious.” It’s hard to explain, of course. He’s not sure he can make Yahaba understand that he really isn’t hurt as badly as he appears to be, but saying anything about it wouldn’t exactly make sense. He goes for the more normal approach. “I wanna make sure they respect me.”

“I don’t think that’s what _respect_ is supposed to look like,” Yahaba snorts, shaking his head. He doesn’t grab for Kentarou’s clothes again at least, and he settles with his textbook in his lap with a frustrated huff.

Kentarou catches himself leaning slightly closer once again, not meaning to, but before he can jerk himself away, Yahaba’s shoulder tilts slightly to the side, so they’re _almost_ touching, scant centimeters apart.

And it’s so bizarrely comforting that Kentarou is almost frustrated by it. He almost wants to go back to fighting with Yahaba, if only to be standing on familiar ground again. They don’t do more than bicker though, and he leaves Yahaba’s house just before the sun goes down with his math _and_ literature homework done and a strange empty space in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

 

 

* * *

It’s just slightly too much to expect that marching himself to the third-years hall over lunch won’t make him nervous at all, but Shigeru ignores the slight fluttering of his stomach and presses on anyway.

He finds Oikawa still seated at his desk, with his fanclub surrounding him and apparently trying to talk him into lunch. His food is already sitting on the desk, with a single chair pulled up at the other side of it that Shigeru can only _assume_ is meant for Iwaizumi. Oikawa doesn’t notice him right away, too absorbed in flirting with the girls around him. It means that Shigeru has to clear his throat and square his shoulders, walking into the room and inclining his head stiffly when Oikawa _does_ look over at him. “Yahaba-chan! What a nice surprise!”

“Do you have a moment to talk, Oikawa-san?” He tucks his hands behind his back, and Oikawa nods, looking up at the girls around him and shrugging his shoulders dramatically.

“Ah, my apologies ladies. Tomorrow, maybe?” He offers, and there’s giggling and very sincere goodbyes before it’s just the two of them. Oikawa looks up at him with a smile, head tilted to the side. “What’s on your mind?”

“I think Kyoutani-kun’s, um, _friends_ are the reason he’s always so beat up,” he starts out sure, but the look on Oikawa’s face makes him feel like maybe he should’ve figured that out on his own weeks ago.

It’s a surprise when Oikawa _sighs_ at him, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t worry too much about what Kyoken-chan is involved with, if I were you.”

Oikawa pauses, then gives Shigeru another glance, his brows knitting slightly together. “You _haven’t_ been getting involved with that nasty group, have you?”

“I saw the one you got into an argument the other day; he was bugging Kyoutani-kun so I tried to help him out,” Shigeru tugs at the index finger of his hand behind his back, thinking.

“Kyoken-chan made his bed right where it is,” the usual chirpy tone drops out of Oikawa’s voice, and that comes out as a hiss. The corners of his smile are diamond hard, enough for a small shiver to start at the base of Shigeru’s spine.

When Iwaizumi joins the two of them only a few moments later, he looks at Shigeru with a surprised blink. “Yahaba-kun. There’s a surprise.”

“W- well you said to come talk to you if I knew anything about Kyoutani-kun.” He refuses to falter, even if he finds the ace intimidating in a way that he doesn’t with Oikawa. He turns back to Oikawa, teeth worrying the corner of his lip. “I think he needs help.”

“He’s turned that down plenty of times,” Oikawa sniffs, and Shigeru is surprised to find himself opening his mouth with an argument on the tip of his tongue. He’s not usually the person looking to get into a debate with his senpai, and he _never_ expected Kyoutani to be the cause of it.

“We’ll do whatever we can to help him out,” Iwaizumi cuts in, stopping Shigeru from making an idiot out of himself. “But Oikawa’s right. It’s better for you to steer clear of them.”

Oikawa leans back slightly, not bothering to look smug over being agreed with. Instead, there’s a calculating expression on his face, leveling his gaze directly at Shigeru. “I’m surprised _you’re_ so worried about him, Yahaba-chan.”

“Just because he’s a pain doesn’t mean I think he should be treated like that,” Shigeru frowns, finding the implication makes something squirm in his stomach. It’s the level of just how much he _does_ care that surprises him. He wonders if maybe some of Kyoutani’s strangely affectionate behavior isn’t because no one else has bothered to be kind to him lately.

Looking back, that seems truer than Shigeru would like it to be.

Oikawa breaks his stare after a moment, huffing air into his bangs. “It’s not like you can change what’s in his nature.”

“Oi,” Iwaizumi glares over at him, shaking his head. “It’s not the time to be talking about that again.”

“Iwa-chan thinks the _right time_ is _after_ everything goes wrong,” Oikawa snorts, but there’s a frown on his face, not a pout, and Iwaizumi growls slightly under his breath.

“It’s not our _job_ to get involved right now, Oikawa,” he snaps, and Shigeru finds he’s lost the thread of the conversation entirely. It’s just as well since both of them seem to have forgotten him standing there. Oikawa’s gaze is hard, leaning forward so his elbows are on the desk, back straight.

“It _is_ our job. It was our job as soon as one of them _turned_ the kid from Johzenji--”

“Enough,” Iwaizumi snaps, cutting him off. Oikawa's mouth shuts with a little click of teeth, and Iwaizumi turns back to stare at Shigeru. “Don't worry about it, Yahaba-kun. We'll try and talk to him after practice.”

The heavy implication of _just stay out of it_ isn't lost on Shigeru. He grits his teeth slightly and nods, bowing his head and mumbling a thank you before leaving. He's more frustrated and confused than he was _before_ talking to the two of them.

He has no real plan of leaving Kyoutani out on his own.

 

 

 

 

* * *

He doesn’t so much accept Heisuke’s texted invitation to hang out in the scrap yard on a Monday afternoon as he does slink there like he’s been commanded to. He figures that hiding out with Yahaba to study was pretty much a one-time thing.

And it seems like, when he gets there, things are going to be okay. Yuuji grins at him and bangs their foreheads together with so much enthusiasm that Kentarou feels like he’s been headbutted. Yuda and Motomu are, against all odds, _studying_ , with their heads bent low and close together, looking over the book they’re sharing and mumbling. Heisuke is stretched out on the hood of an old car, a claw on the tip of one finger, carving _something_ into the metal. The sound makes a shiver rattle down the back of Kentarou’s spine but he clamps his mouth shut and does his best to ignore it.

He and Yuuji are just starting around the corner of the shed, feet a whisper on the soft grass when Motomu lifts his head from studying, looking over to Heisuke. “Have you figured out what you wanna do yet?”

Heisuke stops, lifting his head and grinning, teeth a bright, sharp slash in the space of his mouth. He drags his tongue over them and laughs. “Yeah. I’ve got an idea.”

Motomu makes a sound like he doesn’t entirely understand, and Yuda rolls his eyes, still looking down at the book in his lap. “It’s not that much fun turning someone, you know. _And_ the kid’s gonna be even more upset if you do.”

“What’s there to be upset about? He won’t have to sneak off and play pet anymore,” Motomu laughs, and Kentarou can feel the wolf in the back of his mind snarling at the idea, hackles raised. There’s a thrill between the three of them, a savage energy that crackles Kentarou’s senses. The hairs on the back of his neck raise, standing on end, making his skin tingle with the sensation. Yuuji, next to him, curls in slightly on himself.

Kentarou knows what he’s remembering--what it’s like being turned. Not the pain of the bite itself but the feeling of his mind shredding to pieces, making space for the new, wild part of his brain, the grinding and changing of bone, the _pain_ …

It’s easy to remember, even almost a decade later, the bright, burning scar of a wound across Kentarou’s memory. Yuuji’s trembling slightly despite the cloying summer air, hugging his jersey around his sides and looking over at Kentarou with wide, scared eyes. “T- they won’t really attack someone, right?”

Kentarou doesn’t know how to answer that, whether he’s supposed to take it as a joke or not. He doesn’t say anything, voice strangled out by the panic he’s so desperately trying to contain. The wolf is demanding a fight, sending impulses of _protect, protect, protect_ trembling down his spine.

His hands curl into fists, and he can feel the sharp prod of claws against his skin. Yuuji continues staring at him, wavering nervously before slinking around the corner. The conversation has already changed topics, and slowly, sucking unsteady breaths into his lungs, Kentarou follows after him.

No one asks where he’s been for almost two weeks, and no one goes out of their way to greet him. There’s a clear demarcation, the way they squeeze slightly away from where he sits, the fact that Yuda _and_ Motomu goad him into fights. He’s an outsider again.

 

Later, battered and frustrated, he lays down under Yahaba’s window to lick his wounds. He doesn’t go home until the sun is kissing the face of the horizon, struggling to keep his eyes open as he gathers his things up for practice. He’s _tired_ down to his bones and he knows it’ll be obvious when he shows up to school. He pushes through it anyway, rubbing his palms into his eyes.

Kentarou may be a monster, but he’ll do what it takes to keep Yahaba from being made into one too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: this chapter is soft  
> me: *starts this chapter with a mutilated animal*  
> me: *ends this chapter with threats against Yahaba's life*  
> me: So Soft


	4. muscle to muscle, toe to toe

_"When will I stop belonging_  
_to this hungry thing inside me?"_  
—Clementine von Radics

* * *

 

Kentarou leaves practice feeling worn and sore in the best possible way. There's a pleasant buzz through his muscles and welcome, contented quiet from the beast in the back of his head. There's less than a week left until the next full moon and it's made the animal part of his mind anxious and energetic all over again.

It's that factor that makes it easy to smell Yuuji standing outside the gates. The change in his sense of smell always leaves him slightly disoriented, but familiarity makes Yuuji hard to mistake—the sharpness of this cologne, clean sweat, the slight mustiness that he associates with the pack in general.

When Kentarou reaches the gates, shoulders slumped slightly inward, bag slung over his back, Yuuji doesn't greet him with a grin, or an ecstatic wave. He’s smiling still, but it’s tight at the edges, failing to really reach his eyes. Kentarou hesitates half a step, expecting someone other than just Yuuji to be waiting for him. He’s alone, it seems, and he lifts his hand to rub at the back of his neck. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Kentarou grunts in return, resuming walking and turning toward home. He assumes, correctly, that Yuuji will follow after him. Silence hovers between the two of them for a moment, pressing down like it occupies a physical space before Yuuji finally finds what he wants to say.

“Are you leaving?” His voice is quiet, and Kentarou doesn’t have to ask for clarification on what he means by that. Slowly, he lifts his shoulders in a shrug. He’s slunk back into hiding in the past week, avoiding any contact with the rest of them. Heisuke hasn’t come looking for him this time either, and Kentarou didn’t expect _Yuuji_ to either.

“I don’t think they’d really hurt your friend,” he says, sounding like he only half believes himself for saying it. Kentarou resists the urge to hunch further into himself at the reminder that they’ve considered it at all. Instead, he tugs his hands out of his pockets and rubs at his eyes instead, trying to swipe the tiredness out of them. Apparently taking his silence as a sign, Yuuji continues. “Heisuke says it’s not healthy for you to be on your own.”

“‘M used to it,” Kentarou huffs slightly. Not that he particularly _wants_ to go back to locking himself in abandoned sheds for the full moon, still fearing that he’ll find a way out and end up hurting someone. He’s tired of being afraid in general—tired of being afraid of himself, tired of being afraid _for_ someone else. Even with the extra energy of the full moon to push him along, he feels like his body is too heavy to keep carrying with him.

“Yeah, but,” Yuuji frowns slightly, brow pinched together like he’s hunting for the words he wants to use. He’s smart, Kentarou knows, even if he prefers to cover it up with his attitude. “It’s better for everyone if you stay, isn’t it? Families are supposed to stick together.”

The word twinges in the center of his chest—the sting of something he’s been missing, a wound he only recalls when it aches once more.

“We aren’t meant to be alone,” he fidgets his fingers together, stopping. Kentarou does as well, turning to face him. “And—things are better with you around.”

The words make Kentarou’s chest feel strange—an aching pressure around empty space. It’s hard to let go of his reservations, the anxieties that make him lay under Yahaba’s window until he can’t keep his eyes open anymore.

He sighs, letting some of the tension bleed out of his body. There’s a nagging thought in the back of his mind—borrowing the use of Oikawa Tooru’s voice. _You should stick with what’s in your nature, anyway._

“Okay,” he agrees, more softly than he really means to. He lifts his fist, almost smiling when Yuuji taps their knuckles together. A grin catches on Yuuji’s face, lighting up his eyes with energy as he nods his head roughly.

“Heisuke said we’ll be better off as a bigger pack anyway.”

Kentarou’s stomach twists, stuffing his hands into his pockets once more.

There are others in the area not living in packs, he knows—like the Towada siblings who only rely on one another or others like himself that have never lived in a pack—they aren’t that uncommon or hard to find. But, the memory of how Heisuke spoke about Yahaba, how it seemed so easy for him to consider _turning_ someone, makes him doubt that those are the people Heisuke has in mind for expanding.

He follows after Yuuji anyway.

 

 

 

* * *

“Yahaba-chan!” Oikawa’s head pops out the door to the clubroom, catching Shigeru as he leaves morning practice. He stops, turning and tilting his head slightly to the side, wondering if he left something behind. “Can you run a small errand for Oikawa-san?”

“Sure.” He’s not in any particular rush to get to class this morning, and he doubts that Oikawa is going to make him late. He nods, stepping out of the room and holding his hand out.

“Kyoken-chan forgot these,” he uncurls his fingers to reveal four small studs laying in his palm, and it takes Shigeru a moment to recognize them as the ones that Kyoutani ears in his ear. “They’re silver—he probably wants them back.”

“Oh, yeah. I can take them to him,” Shigeru shrugs, plucking the silver studs from Oikawa’s hand. Oikawa smiles, reaching out and ruffling his hand through Shigeru’s hair, messing it up with a chuckle. Shigeru _tries_ to duck away with a groan, regretting stopping to talk to Oikawa when he’s clearly in the mood for mischief. The door to the club room swings open once more, followed by Iwaizumi shouting.

“Oi! We’re not done cleaning up. Stop screwing with the underclassmen and get over here!”

Oikawa drops his hand with a petulant sigh, giving Shigeru a wink while he tries to arrange his hair again. “Better run before Iwa-chan yells at you too.”

He chuckles, making his way back to the club room without seeming really bothered by being scolded. Shigeru shakes his head slightly, rolling his eyes and making his way to class.

 

When he goes to meet Watari outside for lunch, Kyoutani is already there. He has a small scowl on his face, but Watari, seated next to him, looks as cheerful as ever. Shigeru sits, noticing the lack of food in Kyoutani’s lap as he pulls his own lunch out. Kyoutani jolts out of his thoughts with a minute shake of his head, looking at Shigeru with his brows pinching tighter together.

“What?” Shigeru bristles after a moment of just being stared at, and Kyoutani’s lips quirk upward, reaching out and brushing his fingers through Shigeru’s bangs. He doesn’t _mean_ to freeze, but he can feel the warm tips of Kyoutani’s fingers against his forehead, and for a second he forgets to breathe. Kyoutani repeats the motion once before dropping his hand with a grunt and a roll of his eyes.

“Your hair was fucked up,” he shrugs, and Shigeru is _praying_ that his face isn’t as red as it feels. Kyoutani’s expression smooths after a moment, returning to the book in his lap in lieu of food. “Figured you’re so uptight about it that I might as well help.”

There’s the tilt of what just might be a smile on his face, so small that Shigeru might have missed it entirely if he weren't looking so closely. He digs his own lunch out of his bag, unfolding the neat wrapping around it and glancing over at Kyoutani as he flips the page in his book. “Didn’t you bring anything?”

“I woke up late,” he grumbles, rubbing his right hand over the back of his neck. He doesn’t glance at Shigeru’s lunch, which only makes Shigeru roll his eyes with a little huff, setting it on the ground between them.

“Well here. My mom packs too much anyway,” he shrugs. It’s only half a lie, really. Kyoutani blinks at him, his expression cracking open and vulnerable with surprise. Slightly desperate to get away from the way that look makes his stomach feel like it’s going to drop through the floor, he glances back at his bag, clearing his throat unevenly. His eyes fall on his pencil case and he pulls that out as well with a blink. “Oh yeah. Oikawa-san said you left these behind this morning.”

He pulls the four studs out carefully, as not to lose the tiny pieces of metal that hold them together, before turning to pass them over to Kyoutani. Kyoutani tilts his head slightly, his right hand still resting on the back of his neck. His nostrils flare wide for a brief second, and the way he reaches his left hand out almost seems _wary_ to Shigeru. Trying to just write it off as another strange Kyoutani quirk, he drops them into the warm skin of his palm neatly. Kyoutani’s hand curls into a tight fist around them, his shoulders going tense.

“I gotta go, sorry.” He pushes himself up, snatching his book and his bag in one hand before jogging down the stairs that lead back into the school building, leaving Watari and Shigeru blinking in his absence.

 

 

 

* * *

The tiny silver beads go rattling down the stairs, flung out of Kentarou’s palm the second the door shut behind him.

It only helps a little to stop the searing pain in the center of his palm—tiny circles of flesh burnt away in an instant just from the silver resting against his skin. He swallows the urge to whimper over it like a pup to the back of his throat, jogging the rest of the way down the stairs instead.

Running his hand under cool water does little to soothe the bite of it, but it rinses clean where the silver ate away at his skin and gets rid of _some_ of the burning smell, at least. He turns to rest his forehead against his shoulder muffling a soft groan there as he holds his hand steady under the flow of water.

Unlike more mundane injuries, silver burns heal slowly and hurt constantly. He pulls his hand out of the water with a sigh, shaking the excess off before staring at his palm. There are four perfectly circular burns on it, the edges slightly raised. The circles are too small to have been made by something like a cigarette, and Kentarou isn’t sure how he’s going to explain this if someone asks him about it.

Mostly he’s stuck hoping that no one will notice. It’s easier, he supposes, since it’s his left hand. He can still practice normally enough, though he’ll have to resist the urge to spike with his left when it’s easier. It’s better than having to come up with an excuse for skipping several days until his hand is healed enough that spiking a ball wouldn’t peel off patches of skin the size of coins.

What’s more worrying is the fact that Oikawa gave his little trick to Yahaba to deliver. Kentarou has known since the beginning, of course, that Iwaizumi and Oikawa aren’t monsters like he is--the smell, the sense of them is all wrong for that. But Oikawa has made it _plenty_ clear that he knows what kind of beast Kentarou is carrying inside of him.

And he’s made it plenty clear that he doesn’t like it.

Kentarou leans to twist off the water from the faucet, drawing a slow breath in as he does. So far, it hasn’t mattered too much to him what Oikawa Tooru _is_. But it’s hard to keep himself from being interested when Oikawa is going out of his way to play _games_ with him.

His hand curls into a fist, injury forgotten, head ducked low between his shoulders as he storms out of the bathroom.

 

Perhaps hunting Oikawa down in the middle of lunch wasn’t the best idea that Kentarou ever had. It might have been smarter to wait until after practice, when it’d be easier to have this conversation without elbowing his way through groups of milling third years, ignoring the annoyed grumbles that follow after him.

Oikawa, as it turns out, isn’t hard to find. And rather than lose his nerve and hover in the doorway he charges his way into the classroom as well. Oikawa looks up curiously, cutting himself off from whatever he was saying to Matsukawa and Hanamaki, a smile lighting on his face. The wolf in the back of his mind is caught between a snarl and a shiver, still unsure exactly how to handle Oikawa. He pushes through it, digging his nails into his palms and hoping that he doesn’t end up sprouting claws in the middle of a classroom. “Kyoken-chan! This is a surprise.”

“I want you to leave me alone,” Kentarou’s voice comes out low and snarling, and rather than seeming intimidated, Oikawa sighs and shakes his head slightly. Kentarou doesn’t miss the glance he spares to the shared confusion on the faces of the other two eating with him. Iwaizumi is gone for the moment, judging by the fourth lunch and empty chair next to them. Oikawa continues smiling, pushing his chair back and standing.

“Why don’t you and I take a walk?” He coos and the attempted soothing of his tone only makes Kentarou’s blood flare hotter in his veins. He jerks his head in a nod, resisting the urge to snap at Oikawa’s hand when it lands on his shoulder to guide him out of the room. He shrugs it off instead, walking stiffly two steps ahead of Oikawa. He’s overtaken easily by Oikawa’s longer strides and winds up following him to stand behind the gym, surprised to find the area so empty of students. Oikawa frowns at him, one hand placed on his hip, shaking his head. “Please avoid causing a scene in the future, Kyoken-chan. People are already scared enough of being around you.”

“I don’t give a shit about that,” he snaps, rubbing his thumb over the stinging silver burns on his palm and glaring directly at Oikawa. It’s so much easier, with the full moon so close, to just let the anger course through him. He can feel the sharpness of the teeth in his mouth and it’s only an encouragement to the pure instinct telling him that he has to _fight_. “I want you to _leave me alone_.”

“Yes, you said that.” Despite having dragged Kentarou off on his own, Oikawa doesn’t seem to be the least bit afraid. Instead, he looks calculating, eyes sharp like he can see straight through Kentarou’s skin.

“What are you even? A witch or something?” The annoyance burning in his tone covers some of the genuine wondering that’s been bothering him. Oikawa’s eyebrows leap together and he snorts, shaking his head.

“Do I _look_ like I’m going to spew blood over everything I own? Don’t concern yourself with what I am.” He pauses for a moment before seeming to light on an idea, tapping a finger against his chin. “Here’s a thought. Why don’t you and I make a little deal?”

“I don’t _want_ a deal with you,” Kentarou huffs, but not as hotly as before. Oikawa clicks his tongue.

“At least listen to the offer,” his smile only grows wider, increasing Kentarou’s desire to rip it off of his face. “I’ll leave you and your _charming_ friends be—no more silver, no more picking little spats with you or your alpha friend.”

“If?” Kentarou ventures, both eyebrows raised. He’s guessing he knows what Oikawa wants from him in return, though if he wanted Kentarou to leave the volleyball team so badly he probably could have kicked him off on his own by now. Oikawa’s smile stays in place, but it’s cold and hard, and the look in his eyes makes an uncomfortable shiver tremble over Kentarou’s shoulders.

“Leave Yahaba-chan out of it.”

Well. That isn’t at all the request that he was expecting. Oikawa pauses, but when he sees Kentarou isn’t going to argue, he continues on his own. “I can’t stop you from spending time around one another at practice, or your little lunch dates if that’s what you’d like, but leave him _out_ of your little werewolf drama show.”

“I’m not—” Kentarou starts, then cuts himself off when Oikawa _scoffs_.

“Are you hoping he’s going to adopt you? Is that why you’re following him home every night?” Oikawa’s eyebrows lift and Kentarou’s shoulders flinch inwards.

“I just want to keep him safe.” He hates admitting it to someone like Oikawa, and he hates, even more, the way it feels foolish coming out of his mouth. There’s a beat of hesitation before Oikawa sighs, his expression softening slightly.

“Do you _really_ think that dragging him further into this mess is going to keep him _safe_?” He’s less mocking this time, but Kentarou scowls harder. “The more involved you get the more you’re going to drag him into the supernatural.”

As much as he’d like to, it’s hard to deny the truth inherent to what he’s saying. If Kentarou walks away, there’s no reason for his pack to see Yahaba as any kind of threat or interest. There’s no reason for _anything_ to take an interest in Yahaba. As far as Kentarou can tell he’s entirely, blessedly normal.

He’d probably envy that fact if he weren’t so—however it is he feels about Yahaba Shigeru.

“Fine,” the single word leaves his mouth like he has a grudge against it. Oikawa nods his head with a delicate snort, turning to walk back to eating his lunch.

“Oh,” he pauses, looking back over his shoulder with one eyebrow lifted. “Don’t think I won’t know if you go back on your word, Kyoken-chan.”

He tosses a wink toward Kentarou before disappearing around the corner.

 

 

 

* * *

It’s not that Shigeru expects the dog will come to visit him every single day. He’s a wild animal, and so it makes sense that he’ll be off doing other things on occasion—but, in the three or so months that he’s been showing up, he’s never been gone for more than a day or two at a time.

Shigeru hasn’t seen him in four days.

A stressful four days, even outside of the missing dog. Kyoutani’s been avoiding him since The Lunch Incident and Oikawa has been loading him with extra captain preparation duties (even if Shigeru would like to deny to himself that he’s going to be captain next year.)

He peels his eyes away from the volleyball game playing out on the screen of his laptop with a hefty sigh, trying to blink the dryness away from them. It’s _late_ , later than he usually stays up, but… he’s still hoping the dog will show up and settle under his window like he usually does. There’s a small plate of leftovers set on the corner of the porch, and Shigeru would be sitting out there himself if it weren’t for the clouds hanging heavy overhead and threatening the world with rain.

Chin resting in his palm, he leans to stare out the window, trying to fight the heaviness of his eyelids. It’s a struggle, and it it weren’t for the anxious swirl of concerns that won’t stop chasing one another around and around in his head, he’d probably be asleep already. As it is, despite all the signals his body is giving him, Shigeru knows he won’t sleep yet.

He returns to watching the game, taking lazy notes on the players, how they move and react to one another, but it’s hard to focus on. He hasn’t spent any time practicing alone with Kyoutani lately, in fact, he hasn’t spent time with Kyoutani _at all_.

Weeks ago, that probably wouldn’t have bothered him in the least. He probably would’ve been _glad_ to be rid of Kyoutani and his brash personality and annoying habits. Now… as reluctant as he is to admit it to Watari, he sort of misses those things.

He’d feel better, maybe, if he understood _why_ , but even after searching his thoughts, again and again, he can’t think of anything he might have done to offend Kyoutani so terribly. Shigeru groans, pressing his palms against his eyes.

This is _stupid_. He feels stupid.

He clips the lid of his laptop shut with a sigh, frowning at his sparse notes. He’ll have to watch it again when he can pay more attention or risk getting scolded by Oikawa.

With another long glance out the window, he picks himself up and drags himself to bed, flicking the lights off before he crumples into its warm embrace. Tama, the family’s old tabby cat, leaps into his bed with a plaintiff wail, putting both front paws on the center of Shigeru’s chest to demand affection.

Shigeru caves, rubbing between her ears and shutting his eyes. She settles to lay half on his chest, the steady thrum of her purring keeping him company until he finally does fall asleep.

 

Kyoutani shows up for practice the next day, back to a black eye and a bad attitude, and Shigeru’s stomach twists. It seems far more insidious now than it did before, and by the time they’re changing to get ready for morning classes, he’s itching with the need to _do_ something. Kyoutani tugs his shirt off, half facing his locker, glaring at the fabric in his hands for a moment before stuffing it into his bag.

The fact that Shigeru’s eyes linger for just a moment extra on his chest, drifting downward toward the defined muscle of his stomach is only because he’s concerned about Kyoutani being injured even _worse_.

Kyoutani must catch him looking anyway, because he frowns harder and turns his back all the way, jerking his shirt on so hard that Shigeru swears he hears stitches pop. It makes him unexpectedly annoyed when Kyoutani leaves as soon as his shirt is buttoned, sleeves pushed up around his elbows and tie loose around his throat.

Watari taps his elbow against Shigeru’s side, light and friendly, smiling when he turns around. “I’m sure he’s okay.”

Shigeru opens his mouth to argue that he doesn’t _care_ , only to clip it shut with an unconvinced grunt from the back of his throat. There’s no point in lying to Watari about whether or not he’s grown attached to Kyoutani, and if he tries he’ll probably just get one of those gratingly knowing smiles anyway. Instead, he sighs out slowly and shakes his head, returning to tying his own tie properly. “I hope so.”

 

Starting to worry that he’s developed a sixth Kyoutani sense at this point, Shigeru slides out of class just a little early at the end of the day, claiming he has to use the bathroom. He’s rewarded for his poor behavior, however, when he manages to catch Kyoutani digging his shoes out of his locker.

“You’re skipping out?” Shigeru raises both eyebrows, surprised that Kyoutani doesn’t jump at his voice. He pauses for a moment, hand hovering on the door of his locker, and Shigeru decides to press his luck. “What about practice?”

“Don’t feel like it,” he grunts after shrugging his shoulders. He finally lifts his head to frown at Shigeru, cocking it to the side with the ghost of a smirk on his face. “Are _you_ skipping?”

“I came to find _you_ ,” he doesn’t feel bad for admitting it, not with the way it makes Kyoutani blink like he didn’t expect to hear anything of the sort. “You’re avoiding me, so I figured I’d have to surprise you.”

“Whatever,” Kyoutani grumbles, but the tips of his ears are pink. And well, it’s certainly not a _denial_ of what Shigeru’s saying, is it?

“Tell me what’s going on with you,” he snaps, fire rising into his voice. It seems silly, almost a joke, because Shigeru doesn’t raise his voice with anyone _but_ Kyoutani. He steps forward, hand catching around one of Kyoutani’s arms when he tries to turn away.

And for just a second, Kyoutani hesitates in shaking him off, looking at Shigeru’s hand on his arm with his brows knit together. It’s a heartbeat spent in a tense bubble, wondering if this will somehow be the thing that makes him relent…

Kyoutani _does_ shake him off, rolling his eyes. “It’s none of your _business_. Leave it alone.”

He starts to step away again, and rather than doing the smart thing--looking at Kyoutani, with his strong arms and heavy scowl, the fact that he’s _already_ sporting a black eye from a fight—and letting it go, Shigeru does the stupid thing instead.

He grabs the collar of Kyoutani’s shirt in his fists, backing him up two steps until he hits the row of lockers behind him, shaking his head. “I’m trying to _help_ you, you asshole! I just want you to stop avoiding me—I thought we were _friends_.”

Mouth opened slightly in surprise, Kyoutani doesn’t say anything for a moment. It seems to fade quickly, because he bares his teeth and shakes his head, shoving Shigeru’s hands off with a force that surprises him, makes him stumble slightly. “Well you thought _wrong_. Just… leave me alone.”

Kyoutani slings his bag over his shoulder, storming out the door without a glance back to find Shigeru staring at him in stunned silence.

 

 

 

* * *

If asked, Kentarou probably wouldn’t be able to describe what a full moon is actually _like_. Usually, there’s a line of separation between his own mind and the mind of the wolf, but during the full moon, the invisible barrier opens and Kentarou is left at the mercy of his wilder instincts.

And life, as the wolf, is not about thinking and overthinking, about worrying about grades or volleyball. It doesn’t recognize the inherently human things that make Kentarou doubt himself. Life, for the wolf, is awash in smell, and sound, and sensation—in the simple thrill of chasing and hunting, the comfort of simply having a pack around him to make him feel safe.

The full moon is the wolf’s world. The floor of the forest is soft and cool on the pads of his feet, despite the cloying humidity of the air against his fur. Heisuke is running through the trees several feet ahead of him, a black and gray streak through the growing darkness. It doesn’t matter—the wolf can see him fine, and more than that, he can _smell_ the members of his pack around him. The trees around him thin, the even litter of leaves giving way to grass and stone. The gradual recession of the forest makes it easier to see Heisuke running ahead of him, and Kentarou’s head ducks slightly further, tongue lolling out as he runs.

Heisuke doesn’t _stop_ so much as his steps slow, nose tilted up to sniff at the air. He doesn’t look back at any of them, simply huffing a low sound from the center of his chest. Kentarou can smell it too— _prey_. There’s an electricity between them, and when Heisuke tilts his head back with a low howl, Kentarou takes the direction and turns his body to the right.

The prey is easy to find—a boy, tall, with his hair standing straight up, already looking lost and alone. His head whips around the next time Heisuke howls, and this time, Kentarou returns it, tilting his head back slightly. The boy startles so badly he nearly knocks himself over, turning to stare at Kentarou with wide, scared eyes.

But something--something about it makes him feel _strange_ , strange in a way that the wolf doesn’t understand except that it isn’t a normal feeling. Heisuke emerges from the trees last, leaving the boy encircled by growling beasts.

And Kentarou is _confused_.

He tilts his nose up once again, sniffing at the air in an effort to understand, and from this close the boy doesn’t smell to him like _prey_.

He smells something like _home_ , like safety and shelter, like something that Kentarou is meant to _protect_.

Kentarou whimpers, high and piercing, a sound that drags all the attention to him instead of the boy. He’s not supposed to try and protect prey, he knows, but the fact that he _has_ to protect the boy means that he can’t be prey.

He doesn’t have words to explain it to the rest of them, and instead, he breaks ranks with another whimper, nosing at the boy’s shaking fingers, blinking his eyes. There're pulses of information behind his eyes like bright flashes of light, _young_ and _safe_ and _good_ and when Motomu advances a step with a growl that’s meant to be a warning, Kentarou wheels on him with one of his own, hackles raising along his back. Motomu lowers his head further, lip curling back to reveal the glistening surface of his teeth, and Kentarou responds with a snap of his jaws, sharp and fierce enough to make him back up a step, considering.

Yuuji is the only one _not_ growling at him, and Kentarou turns, lifting one great paw to bat at the boy’s leg, trying to urge him backward. Judge, jury, and executioner are nothing to the wolf, there is no concept of justice amongst them.

The boy makes a strange sound, like a great bird in distress, backing away from Kentarou and through the open space he left, clutching at a thick red line along his leg left by Kentarou’s claw. Kentarou follows him several steps until he’s passed the edge of the circle they create and using his body to block the path, low to the ground, tail up but ears pinned to his head. A warning.

The boy runs.

 

Waking up is a slow, confused, aching process. There’s a headache pounding the inside of Kentarou’s skull, but at least this time his mouth doesn’t taste like blood. He’s cold, though, curled up in a small ball a dozen feet away from the peacefully snoozing pile of pack members.

He sits up slowly, squeezing his eyes closed against the intrusion of the light, trying to catalog the aches of his body with his still half-wild brain.

Memory with the wolf is always tricky. It’s impossible for him to fully understand the way it looks at the world, in flashes of vision interspersed with smell and impulse, but what he _can_ parse doesn’t make him feel good. He scrubs his fingers through his hair.

They attacked _someone_. A person. Someone that Kentarou felt obligated to protect…

Well, that explains why he’s sore and outcast, at least.

He picks himself off the ground with a huff, wondering if he should slink away before the rest of them wake up. He’s only just pulled his shorts back on when he notices Heisuke, crouched shirtless under a nearby tree, cigarette hanging from his mouth. He plucks it from between his lips, blowing out a stream of smoke, head tilted back between his shoulders. “Headed out, pup?”

Kentarou freezes in place, his shoulders tensing. Heisuke doesn’t wait for him to answer, pushing himself back to his feet with a grin slashing sideways on his face. “I think you and I should talk. You’ve been getting into a lot of trouble lately.”

“‘M not trying to,” he ducks his head slightly, feeling the splash of blood flooding his cheeks. He lifts his head slowly, sucking in a breath to try and steady himself, to try and steel his spine with resolve. “I don’t wanna be here anymore.”

Heisuke looks surprised by that, blowing more smoke out of his mouth before it seems to register, making him frown. “What’d you mean ‘here’?”

“I- in this pack,” it’s hard to keep his head raised, to meet Heisuke’s eye and tell himself that he doesn’t _have_ to stay. Heisuke’s eyes are wide, even as he scoffs.

“Gonna go back to playing house pet, then? Is that what you want?”

“No,” he answers softly, honestly. He swallows, trying to relocate his heart from his throat. “I just… I don’t want to be a part of hurting anyone.”

He lifts his bag from the ground, not waiting for Heisuke to devise some argument against what he’s saying. Kentarou has seen too much of how they’re willing to hurt others already.

It’s hard to admit to himself, and even harder to commit to when he walks back home with the early morning sun over his shoulder, alone.

He’d rather go back to being _alone_.


	5. tear out all your tenderness

_"This would be hard for you_

_if you were weak,_

_but you're not weak."_  
\- Anne Carson

* * *

 

It’s on his way to afternoon practice that Shigeru notices Kyoutani’s friends loitering outside the gate. He considers, for a moment, despite Oikawa’s multiple warnings not to, going to tell the three of them to get lost before he calls over a teacher, or maybe the police.

He pauses at the thought, staring at them, and glaring when the one with the shaved head and the leather jacket, a boy Shigeru’s only ever heard called ‘Heisuke’ looks up and spots him. They aren’t far enough away from one another that he misses the way Heisuke grins in response to that, turning to say something to his friend with a laugh.

Shigeru huffs air through his teeth and continues on his way to the gym. Kyoutani has made it clear that his involvement isn’t appreciated, after all. He might as well give up trying.

But, to his surprise, Kyoutani is _at_ practice, even if he’s in a bad mood and slinking away from anyone who so much as glances at him like a wounded animal. He stops when Shigeru walks in, not to stare at him, but because he’s watching Kindaichi hobble his way over to the coaches bench and take a seat. He’s dressed for practice, but there’s a bandage wrapped around his thigh that quickly draws Shigeru’s attention.

He’s not the only one. They all seem to be staring at it and Kindaichi ducks his head, pink touching the tips of his ears. “I- it’s not a big deal.”

“He got mugged by dogs,” Kunimi picks up, his voice a perfect deadpan as always, and Hanamaki and Matsukawa snicker. Kunimi’s face doesn’t change, but he still manages to make it clear that he’s glaring at both of them. Oikawa clicks his tongue, approaching the two of them with his arms crossed over his chest.

“You should be more careful, Kin-chan! We have a practice game soon, I need you in tip-top shape,” his voice is playful, but Kindaichi still glows a little at the prospect of being needed by the team. Shigeru can understand that--Kindaichi and Kunimi are both regulars already as first-years, and it’s clear that it’s something that Kindaichi is proud of on behalf of both of them.

“You said dogs?” Iwaizumi’s brow is furrowed, and Kindaichi nods his head, his hair bouncing slightly against the iron grip of the gel he uses on it.

“Yeah! There was a bunch of them and they were _huge_ ,” he rubs the back of his neck, looking slightly pale even as he recounts the story. “I thought I was a goner, honestly. But there was this yellow one that made them all backoff.”

“That’s the one that scratched him.” And again, Kunimi manages to sound annoyed without putting any extra inflection into his voice. Shigeru would be impressed if his heart weren’t trying to pound out of his chest.

“It didn’t mean to! I kinda… froze up.” Kindaichi gives them a shy grin, seeming surprised that they’re all so interested. Oikawa is still smiling but there’s a tightness to it, and it fails to reach his eyes, and Iwaizumi’s jaw is clenched tight.

Feet away, looking at the ground stubbornly, Kyoutani’s face is pale.

Shigeru snaps his attention back to Kindaichi, frowning slightly. “You said he was yellow, right?”

“Yeah. It was still pretty big but smaller than the other ones. Fluffy, too,” he stretches his leg out, hissing slightly as he moves. “I hope it didn’t get beat up by the other dogs… I ran away but I could hear them fighting.”

“Y- yeah, I hope so too.” There’s a mix of apprehension and excitement in Shigeru’s stomach, and Oikawa calls practice to order but Shigeru can feel the prickle of Kyoutani staring at the back of his neck.

He’s been doing that a lot lately. Shigeru resolutely ignores him; it’s not like Kyoutani will have an actual conversation with him, anyway.

 

 

 

* * *

 

Kentarou barely steps foot off the court before Oikawa’s gaze is pinning him down like a preserved insect. He can feel it stabbing the back of his shoulders, holding him in place. He probably shouldn’t be surprised that Oikawa figured the situation out so quickly-- but it’s not as if he knew that they were trying to hurt Kindaichi or someone on the team at all.

Without being told, he lingers after the cleaning finishes. It isn’t hard to guess that Oikawa wants to speak with him, judging by the look on his face, but it _is_ a surprise that Iwaizumi stays behind as well. Oikawa has his leg stretched over the bench, massaging his knee with both hands while Iwaizumi stands with both arms crossed, a frown on his face.

“This is getting out of hand,” his head tilts slightly back to the doors of the gym that the rest of the team had just gone through. “If things like this start happening then something is going to have to be done about it.”

“Iwa-chan is finally coming around to my way of thinking,” Oikawa coos, sounding inordinately pleased by that fact. Iwaizumi glares at him as well. Oikawa seems to have no problem ignoring it. “You might want to inform your flea-ridden friends of that, though.”

“They’re not--” Kentarou opens his mouth to argue, then closes it again, slumping his shoulders around his ears. “I’m sorry… about what happened to him.”

Iwaizumi’s face softens slightly at that, but Oikawa’s eyebrows simply pinch together, voice sharp. “Do you think that they won’t do it again?”

“I… I don’t know,” he swallows, and his tongue feels heavy in his mouth with having to admit to it. “I won’t.”

“I’d find someone else to spend your afternoons with then, Kyoken-chan,” his grin is sharp, vicious, and there’s a flicker in the back of his mind screaming _danger_. “Because if they bite someone else, we’ll have to show them who’s got bigger teeth.”

Kentarou nods his head, sticking his hands into the hem of his shorts. Iwaizumi rolls his eyes at the phrasing, scratching the back of his head. “Just… keep out of trouble.”

Iwaizumi pats him once on the shoulder before he slinks off, but it fails to be comforting at all.

 

At first, Kentarou almost ignores the text that Yuuji sends him, asking him if they can meet after school before the sun goes down. It's not a big surprise that he wants to talk—since Kentarou left first thing in the morning before the rest of them were even awake to see him go—but he's nervous about the last day of the full moon. He's spent too many of them alone to count, but that doesn't mean he wants to go back to locking himself up in abandoned sheds all night.

He hasn't left himself many choices on that, though.

The place Yuuji asks to meet him is their usual clearing, and Kentarou makes his way there ignoring the pressure of the wolf in the back of his mind waiting to be slipped free of his bonds once again. When he arrives, the smell of other wolves is strong in his nose and Yuuji is staring at him with wide eyes. Kentarou can tell as soon as he sees Yuuji that it isn’t just the two of them there.

“S- sorry,” he balks as soon as Kentarou meets his eyes. “I just wanna help.”

“Help with what?” Kentarou frowns, crossing his arms over his chest. His question is delayed, answered perhaps, by Heisuke stepping out of the trees, stretching his arms over his head.

“Good job,” he taps his knuckles against Yuuji’s shoulder before looking at Kentarou with a smirk. “I’m gonna step in and take care of this now for you, pup.”

“Take care of--” he stops himself from asking, eyes going wide. He swallows, balling his hands into fists at his sides to keep from shaking. “I’m not--I’m not involved with Yahaba anymore.”

“Well,” Heisuke’s grin twists and Kentarou can hear feet on the leaves behind him. “Don’t worry about that--We’re going to bring your friend in. No more sneaking around.”

The instinct that makes him lunge forward at that is wired to the deepest parts of his brain, a flashing impulse next to ideas of _predator_ and _prey_ , a neon sign that fills his head with _danger_ , and _home_ , and _protect_. Yuda and Motomu grab him, halting his forward charge at Heisuke. He doesn’t slump between them--the wolf in his head does not recognize the defeat.

Instead, he rails against the both of them, mouth giving way to sharp fangs that snap in the air, pulling and wrenching his body in a desperate effort to sink them into Heisuke Shido’s throat. He can’t manage to pull his arms free, though, and he turns to trying to bite at either of them, failing to do more than twist his shoulders until they ache. Yuuji watches, shaking his head and looking at Heisuke with a frown on his face.

“I don’t wanna hurt anybody else,” he says, his eyes darting from Heisuke to Motomu and Yuda, searching for their support. Neither of them meets his eyes. He looks back to Heisuke, teeth digging into his lip. “You said we were gonna help him.”

“This will help,” Heisuke inclines his head. He squeezes a hand around Yuuji’s shoulder. “I explained it to ya, didn’t I? We need more brothers, and if it’s someone Kentarou cares about then he won’t have to leave, either.”

“I- I guess,” Yuuji mumbles, looking away. It’s clear that he doesn’t entirely buy what Heisuke has to say, but left with nothing else, he simply folds under the pressure from the three of them.

Heisuke’s fist crashing into his stomach knocks the air out of Kentarou’s lungs, and he pitches forward with a wheeze even as he tries to snap his teeth around the offending limb. The arms holding him tighten further, and Heisuke looks at him with a smirk gone sharp with fangs. It’s just beginning to get dark, Kentarou can feel it in the center of his chest. “You stay here, okay pup? I’ll bring your _friend_ back to you in the morning.”

He croaks out a growl, weak from the lack of air being pulled in by the heaving of his chest. He wants to _fight_ , to rip out Heisuke’s heart and hold the organ between his teeth, but he can’t breathe, can’t move his body, too constrained by the arms holding him steady.

It takes more than one hit to drive him unconscious, and by the time that things go mercifully dark, he can taste blood running down the back of his throat, trickling from a cut on the side of his face from the repeated impact of Heisuke’s knuckles.

The forest floor against his body is accompanied by blackness, and it’s a sick, welcome relief.

 

 

 

* * *

Shigeru wonders if maybe he’s lost control of his life.

Months ago, it would have been true that a rumor about a pack of feral dogs around the city would’ve kept him inside at night. It would not be the thing that has him lacing up his sneakers, zipping his jersey up, preparing to go out for a twilight run.

Maybe he has lost control. Maybe he’s become an idiot.

Really, he just wants to know if the wolf is okay. He’s not worrying about being attacked, at least by the yellow one. There’s a distant throb of anxiety in the back of his mind, the inkling that this may still be a terrible idea.

He ignores it.

He steps out the door into the warm night air, wondering if he’ll regret bringing a jacket with him once he actually starts running. He figures, ulterior motives or not, it’s still a good chance to get some more conditioning in. Shigeru is no stranger to pushing himself, even if watching Oikawa’s struggles has made him slightly more wary about it. A jog though is unlikely to do him any serious harm, and he sets off down the sidewalk at an easy pace, getting his body warmed up.

Almost a mile from home, he hears growling behind him. His steps hesitate, slow, and he turns to look back over his shoulder.

What he finds is not the yellow wolf that he’s grown so familiar with. There’s a pair of them—roughly equal in height, one a single solid tone of gray with a white muzzle, fur longer around the legs and the top half of its left ear ripped away and scarred over. The other is a solid brown, almost red, with a short fur covering its whole body. Both have their lips peeled back over snarls. Brain frozen, Shigeru can only make himself keep running, putting on more speed to try and avoid the teeth snapping at this ankles.

It isn’t until more snarls join them that Shigeru realizes he’s been herded into the forest. His sprint turns into a stumble as the even ground gives way to leaves, branches reaching out to snag at his hair and clothes, leaving thin scratches on the surface of his skin. He refuses to stop, adrenaline helping him ignore the burning of his lungs. It isn’t a speed he can maintain, however, and when a root catches around his foot he crashes to his knees, chest heaving against the weight of panic pressing down on him.

When he lifts his head there are wolves surrounding him on all sides.

 

* * *

 

When Kentarou opens his eyes and tries to lift himself to his feet, his body doesn’t work as he expects. His groan comes out as a low whining sound, and atop his head, his ears are pressed in close to his skull. There’s a sick sense of disorientation to having shifted in his sleep, and he takes several stumbling steps before he has a sense of his body again.

 

 

And the wolf is awake, no longer tethered to the back of his mind but once again rearing up to take control while it can. The smell of the pack isn’t far off from him, musty and lingering in his nose, but there’s something _else_ that he can smell, something that makes him start running.

It is no wolf at all, but panic and sweat and something so familiar that even the wolf aches to be near it. The truest sense of _home_ that Kentarou has ever felt.

Through the warm, dark air, Kentarou can hear howling. Vicious and bloodthirsty, the joy of having cornered something, of moving in for the kill. The wolf does not feel dread--worry is a foreign concept to an animal. But the wolf knows that something is _wrong_ , that something that it needs to protect is near and that it’s racing toward that thing and the pack all in the same moment.

He crashes through a row of shrubs before he finds them, full summer flowers sticking in his fur before he shakes the petals off to the ground. Strangely, so strangely, the wolf _recognizes_ the boy that they have surrounded, even if it’s only through the smell of home, the sense of belonging, of safety. Yahaba lifts his head from staring at Heisuke’s slow forward advance to look at Kentarou instead, and his eyes, already wide with fear and panic, blink like they aren’t sure how to react.

Heisuke moves another slow step forward, head low and growls menacing. And while it is not a problem that Kentarou can _think_ his way through at the moment, there is an instinctive kind of knowing.

Heisuke is going to bite Yahaba.

The wolf forgets quickly about hierarchy, about following Heisuke as an alpha or respecting the family that it has only just come to know. Kentarou snarls in response, stepping forward and pawing at Heisuke’s flank, claws raking across his skin short of the pressure that it would take to draw blood. When Heisuke turns, Kentarou refuses to lower his head, and there is a tense moment of bared teeth and reverberating growls, both of them waiting for the other to balk.

Kentarou refuses, keeping his posture stiff and his head too high to be called anything other than defiance. Heisuke lunges forward, using his weight to shove Kentarou down onto his side, teeth snapping at his stomach and then his throat, forcing him to his back. The weight of one paw presses down on Kentarou’s ribs, trying to force him to stay still.

Forcing his way free, Kentarou can feel thin cuts dragged over his skin by Heisuke’s claws, rolling himself back to his feet with another snarl snapping out of his mouth. Both of them lift onto their hind legs, clashing in the air, paws landing on each other’s shoulders, pushing their weight down in a desperate effort to come out on top. Smaller and lighter, Kentarou can’t force his way to the top of their jousting, winding up knocked onto his back. Heisuke follows, standing over top of him.

The first bite, pinching the loose skin of his cheek, serves as a warning. A reminder to submit, to defer to what Heisuke demands of him. Kentarou ignores it, turning his head to the side and biting where he can reach on the side of Heisuke's neck. He does not give a warning, sinking his fang in until the flesh in his mouth gives way to blood and the alpha yelps.

Smaller and lighter, yes. But Kentarou is full of raw determination, only made stronger by the instinct to _protect_ that hammers against the inside of his skull. Heisuke wrenches free of the bite, backing up two steps to lick at the wound, allowing Kentarou to spring to his feet again. He circles, so Yahaba is sheltered behind the bulk of his body, lowering himself slightly to prepare for the next attack.

Heisuke charges forward at him, this time biting fiercely into Kentarou's shoulder and driving him back a step. Kentarou yips, high and pained, using a paw to shove Heisuke away with blood on his teeth. Instead of backing a step again, Heisuke drives forward, snapping his teeth when Kentarou curls his body to avoid it. He doesn’t manage to keep himself entirely away, and Heisuke’s teeth sink into the muscles of his flank.

The sound Kentarou makes is loud, surprised, and he’s forced to strike back, turning until he can grip Heisuke’s ear between his teeth. Heisuke’s mouth only releases when he pulls sharply on the thin membrane in his mouth, and when they come apart there’s blood dripping from the punctures stabbed through it. Heisuke lifts to his hind legs, again and again, Kentarou meets him in the air.

And maybe, this time, he would come out on top, if not for the sound of Yahaba behind him shouting. The words don’t make sense to the wolf, of course, but the voice is high and loud, tinged with panic, and Kentarou turns his head to _look_ …

This time, he lands on his back with enough force to knock the wind out of his lungs, struggling to roll onto his side before Heisuke is on him, but he only manages in kicking his legs ending up with Heisuke looming over him.

He kicks out once more, and Heisuke’s paw lands on his flank to try and stop him, digging into the bite wound already there and expanding it. Kentarou squirms against the ground with a sound that could only be a _scream_ , his head forced back as Heisuke leans over to bite his throat.

Kentarou claws his way free before the teeth close around him, but Heisuke slams into the side of his body before he can fully regain his feet, sending him sprawling on his side in the grass, chest heaving in a desperate attempt to pull in enough air. Heisuke’s head tips back in a howl when Kentarou tries again to stand, and this time fails, his leg giving way under the burden of his own weight. There’s blood clinging to the blades of grass crushed flat under his weight and Kentarou tries _again_ to force his leg to support him.

His entire body is a protesting cry of pain. Satisfied, it seems, that Kentarou is down now permanently, he turns instead to Yahaba. His advance is slow, unhurried, tail held high behind him from victory and pride. And Kentarou knows, to the deepest, most instinctive parts of himself, that this is a fight that he cannot _lose_.

He gets up, slowly, legs shaking. Heisuke must not hear him move, or must ignore him out of arrogance, but this time, Kentarou launches himself at the alpha’s exposed back, knocking him to the side and tearing into the flesh of his shoulder. He rests his weight as hard as he can on Heisuke’s chest, trying to force him to stay flat, biting harder, digging his claws in deeper, until his senses are nothing but the taste of blood in his mouth, the heat of it running over his teeth.

Heisuke makes a surprised, wounded sound, trying to kick his way free but failing until his back legs knock into Kentarou’s injured one. He stumbles back, trying not to lose his tenuous footing, mouth open as he pants. The alpha stands again, but more slowly, keeping his paw slightly raised off the ground. Kentarou doesn’t wait for him to steady himself once more. There is no concept of justice, of honor. There is an enemy, and there is something that Kentarou knows to his core that he needs to protect.

Again, he shoves Heisuke to his back, ignoring the free flow of blood down his flank, digging for the exposed skin of his throat. Heisuke tries to shove him back, claws tearing a new wound across the skin of Kentarou’s cheek, but this time it fails to make him back away. He squeezes his jaws down until he feels a cracking sensation, Heisuke’s breaths going quick and choked for a moment before they stop entirely.

Kentarou lifts his head away slowly, staring at the unmoving wolf beneath him. There’s an unearthly sense of quiet to the world around him, even the beating of his own heart and the ragged tatters of his breathing have been erased. For a victory, it doesn’t feel like much except the slow ebb of adrenaline from his veins and the continued loss of blood that makes his legs shake with weakness. He turns, slowly, on legs that don’t quite want to obey his will anymore, to stare at Yahaba instead.

There’s still fear plainly evident in his face, standing now with a thick branch gripped in both hands. Yuda takes a step forward, not toward Yahaba but toward where Heisuke lays. He noses at the alpha’s stained fur with a whine, only growing more distressed when there is no response.

It’s Motomu that shoves him away with a sharp growl, casting wary eyes at Kentarou and his protective stance in front of Yahaba still. It doesn’t matter that he’s barely on his feet, tail low but not quite tucked between his legs. Without a leader, none of them are truly looking for a fight.

Yuuji lingers the longest, looking for all the world like he’d like nothing more than to stay exactly where he is, but he follows after Motomu snaps at him, sprinting into the dark cover of the forest behind the other two.

When it’s just the two of them alone, the danger passed, Kentarou collapses.

 

* * *

 

Shigeru put plainly, doesn’t know _how_ to process what just happened in front of him. He’s trying to just focus on the present, on wrapping the wolf in his jacket as gently as he can, on stroking its fur and listening to its breathing, praying that it stays slow and even like it is now.

There are soft whimpers of pain attached occasionally, but the wolf doesn’t wake up. Shigeru has his head pillowed in his lap, stroking the uninjured ear slowly. He’s fairly certain that he’s in some kind of emotional shock because mostly he just feels incredibly numb. The body of the other wolf, the bigger one, is a few feet away and utterly, devastatingly still. And maybe Shigeru should be afraid of the yellow wolf after watching it kill another animal, but he’s not sure he’d even be alive otherwise.

And so he continues petting his fur slowly, hands shaking at the events of the evening catch up with him. He’s still out in the woods, exposed, surrounded by bleeding animals. He’s probably still in _danger_.

He doesn’t move, though. Doing so would mean leaving the yellow wolf out here alone, and since Shigeru isn’t sure that it’ll even make it through the night, he stays where he is. His jersey ends up stained, ruined probably. He’s not worried about explaining that later, though he knows he’ll have to. He curls his fingers into the long ruff of fur around the wolf’s neck, glad that he can still feel the beating of his pulse, even if it’s weak and unsteady.

Shigeru doesn’t know how long he’s been out in the woods, but slowly the light of the moon wanes from above him.

There’s a strange sound from the wolf in his lap. It’s not a whimper but a _groan_ , low and guttural, almost _human_.

And that’s when he begins to _change_. The bones begin to shift and crack, limbs elongating as the fur slowly absorbs back into the skin. The paws split into fingers and form feet, and while he sits pinned by the shock of the strange transformation in his lap, the wolf becomes a human.

In fact, the wolf becomes Kyoutani Kentarou, naked except for Shigeru’s jacket wrapped around his body, and still bleeding.

Shigeru’s fingers are curled around the back of his neck still, and his groans taper back off into slow breaths, and above the pounding question of _how_ that rattles its way around the inside of Shigeru’s skull, he’s left with a worse one to ponder.

Kyoutani, unconscious and gravely injured, just killed _something_ protecting him. Shigeru’s fingers curl tighter around the back of Kyoutani’s neck, a tiny defensive impulse that he can’t help. He doesn’t want to wonder if Kyoutani killed an animal or another…

He doesn’t entirely want to try and put a word to what’s happening.

Worse still, he’s left wondering if _Kyoutani_ won’t make it through the night either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _see you, wolf boy_


	6. goodbyes and lullabies

_”I will gaze at the moon and_

_cleanse my heart.”_  
-Zeami

* * *

 

When he wakes, it doesn't immediately strike him as odd that he's lying with his head pillowed in someone's lap. They fall asleep together as a pack all the time. Instead, Kentarou is occupied by the pain in his body--it feels like he's been run several times through a meat grinder, and while he can feel that the scratches on his face have started to heal already, his leg burns still.

The manner of _how_ he got so injured comes back to him slowly, in confused flashes of wolf tainted memory. It's always harder to piece full moons back together, and when his mind finally catches up, he sits up so fast that he nearly headbutts Yahaba Shigeru. Yahaba leans back with a surprised yelp, and before he cranes his neck to look at the corpse of Heisuke lurking behind him like a specter, he focuses on Yahaba. “Are you--”

He reaches a hand toward Yahaba's face, dropping it quickly when he flinches back, eyes wide. It hurts, even if it has no right to. Yahaba is seeing him for the monster that he is, it makes sense that he wouldn't want Kentarou to touch him. He clears his throat, trying to ignore the thick taste of blood coating his mouth. “Are you okay?”

“I--” Yahaba shakes his head, and now that Kentarou isn't in his lap, he curls his hands into fists on his thighs. Sitting up halfway, and ignoring the protesting of his body to moving at all, Kentarou realizes he has what must be Yahaba's jersey wrapped around his sides. “ _What the fuck is going on?_ ”

Kentarou cringes a little harder, trying to think of the best way to explain something that by its nature defies sense. “T- they… Heisuke wanted to, um, turn you. So I had to… stop him.”

“Turn me,” Yahaba repeats, his voice flat. His eyes narrow as Kentarou nods his head. “Turn me into _what_?”

“W- werewolf, I guess.” He's never used the word to describe himself before, and it falls awkwardly off his tongue. Yahaba, defying sense on his own, nods.

“So, _that_ ,” his head inclines toward Heisuke's body, and Kentarou can't even make himself look. “Was a person?”

“Yes,” his voice is small, weak, and really Kentarou wants to do nothing more than crawl into a hole and hide from his guilt. “He was the alpha. Um, t- the one in charge.”

“I'm sorry.” He makes himself really look Yahaba in the face for the first time. He looks _tired_ , with dark circles under his eyes and fear clinging to his posture. Kentarou is just trying to keep his mind in the moment, to avoid thinking about what he's really done. It will tear him apart later, and he's willing to let it, but he needs to get Yahaba home first, at least. “I just… didn't want you to get hurt.”

Yahaba is scared, it's obvious, and he has every reason to be. But he sucks a deep breath into his lungs, reaching a hand out and laying it on the uninjured side of Kentarou's face. The touch is light, and Kentarou has to resist the urge to lean into it, holding himself still as the grave. “You need to go to a hospital.”

Kentarou shakes his head at that, swallowing down the disappointment when Yahaba hand falls away from his cheek. He doesn't want to confront what those feelings mean either since it's unlikely that Yahaba will be able to stand the sight of him again. “I'll be fine… I can take care of it at home.”

Yahaba's mouth opens to argue with him, but Kentarou shakes his head, doing his best to smile. “I'm… sturdier than most people.”

“Well, then you need pants.” Yahaba snorts, and maybe the fact that he's still naked from shifting should embarrassed Kentarou but he's more relieved that Yahaba hasn't run away from him screaming his head off yet.

It's harder than he expects to push himself to his feet, and his leg gives out under him, meaning that Yahaba has to catch him, sending pain searing up his side. He bites back a shout, surprised by it, breathing heavily and leaning his weight into Yahaba's side. “Are… you sure this is okay?”

Kentarou nods, standing under his own power after a moment. It's not the first time he's had to limp his way home. He hobbles his way to the tree that Yuuji has his bag tucked behind, nearly falling over again as he picks it up. It takes more uncomfortable grunting and nearly falling to actually get himself dressed in Yuuji’s shorts, glad the two of them are close enough in size that they don't fall off. The fabric winds up stuck to the fresh blood on his leg from moving around, and when he finishes, Yahaba is eying him warily. “This is a stupid idea. You should go get that looked at.”

“And tell them _what_? That I got into a dogfight?” He snorts, shaking his head sharply back and forth. Yahaba doesn't seem to have an answer to that, not that Kentarou entirely expected one. He sighs out a pained, frustrated huff and runs a hand back through his hair. He's almost reluctant to turn around, even though it's the easiest path out of the forest. He's not sure that he's ready to face Heisuke's body, to really confront what he's done. It's a surprise when Yahaba steps closer to him, reaching out slowly and pulling Kentarou's arm over his shoulders, wrapping the other gently around his side.

"Fine. Let me get you home then." Kentarou thinks, for just a moment, that it's an act of kindness, but Yahaba's face is serious, even as he helps Kentarou hobble in the other direction, keeping his steps slow. "You owe me _so many_ explanations."

 

 

 

 

* * *

Having never been to the house, Shigeru wasn't sure what to expect from Kyoutani's room. It's clean, sparse almost, with a small pile of clothes waiting to be washed and a few finished assignments scattered over his desk. The bed isn't made, but the blankets are flipped into some kind of order. It doesn't really look like Kyoutani is prone to spending much time in the space, and overall it smacks Shigeru as lacking any actual touch of his personality to it.

Getting Kyoutani home took him far longer than expected, since they couldn't very well go marching him scratched and bloodied down the sidewalk and expect not to run into trouble, and if Shigeru _had_ any hopes of making it to morning practice, they've dried up by the time he helps Kyoutani sit on the edge of his bed. It's obvious he's hurting more after walking so much. His shoulders were shaking as he unlocked the door to the small house he lives in, and his breathing is harsh as he sits, scrubbing a hand over his face.

"There's a first aid kit in the bathroom," he points out the door, teeth grit together. And, maybe, any other day, Shigeru would tease him about being a bad host, but for now, he just makes his way out and down the hall quickly. It's easy to find, and the simple white chest is tucked in the cabinet under the sink. He carries it back, passing it over to Kyoutani before elbowing the door closed and crossing his arms, watching Kyoutani rifle through the assorted bandages and medical supplies.

"Do you do this a lot?" It's not the best first question, given the situation they find themselves in, but it's the first thing that springs out of Shigeru's mouth. Kyoutani glances up, ripping an alcohol wipe open with his teeth and spitting a scrap of paper back into his lap. It's a surprise how much the scratches on his face that were leaking blood just hours ago have healed. They've shrunken to thin red scabs, and his side appears to have stopped bleeding as well by the time he shrugs Shigeru's ruined jersey off.

"I guess. How much is a lot?" He raises both eyebrows, and Shigeru counts that as an answer on its own. He sighs, relaxing his arms slowly.

"Do you need help?" It must sting still, cleaning his side, because Kyoutani hisses as he wipes the blood away before shaking his head. He swallows back an obvious cringe from it, inclining his head.

"Just... ask whatever you wanna know. I can handle this." Hardly the most comforting thing to think about. Shigeru wonders if he's been hurt this badly before and how long it'll take him to heal from it.

"So. You hang out at my house a lot." It's not a question, but Shigeru can't think of another way to frame it. Kyoutani ducks his head, pink at the tips of his ears, and that's another gesture that answers the question for him. "Why?"

"A- at first, I wanted to make sure you were okay--safe." He doesn't quite look at Shigeru when he speaks, though his hands have stilled, clutching the red-stained wipe tightly in one fist. He clears his throat, glancing up without lifting his head. "But... I've never had someone treat me like, um, that... before."

Part of Shigeru wants to point out, to argue, that he was treating Kyoutani like a _pet_. But... he's not sure the distinction would change much of how Kyoutani feels about the situation. Still, if there was ever a time to ask... "Like what?"

"Just, um," he rubs the back of his neck, face pink as he looks pointedly at the blank wall next to the bed. It takes him a long moment to come up with the words to respond and difficult as it is, Shigeru forces himself to be patient. "You were... nice. I know it wasn't _to_ me, but I liked it. It made me like spending time with you, even if you hated me normally."

"I don't hate you," Shigeru responds, quick and defensive, and Kyoutani's lips twitch slightly upward. It's not quite a smile--Shigeru reaches a hand out. He must do it too quickly, though because Kyoutani makes an instinctive cringe backward. Shigeru stops, his hand hanging in mid-air, fingers stretched out slightly, level with Kyoutani's temple. Tentatively, he leans forward, pressing his head into the curve of Shigeru's hand. He curls his fingers into the short strands of Kyoutani's hair in return, tilting his head back slightly and leaning in closer, moving more slowly now.

"I don't hate you." He repeats. This time, it's soft, a breath that falls over the parted curve of Kyoutani's mouth. And it's _true_. Kyoutani Kentarou inspires a lot of feelings in Shigeru, especially now, but none of them are hate.

Despite what Kyoutani seems to be expecting, none of them are _fear_ either.

He closes the remaining gap slowly, listening to the little breath of anticipation Kyoutani draws in just before their lips touch. It's a fleeting, gentle contact, enough that Shigeru's face warms and his lips tingle, and for a moment he's scared that Kyoutani isn't going to kiss him back, that somehow he's misread everything between the two of them and made an even bigger mess of things.

But there's the pressure of Kyoutani's lips pressing back against his, and Shigeru curls his fingers slightly tighter in Kyoutani's hair, nails scratching at his scalp. He leans back when Kyoutani groans, just enough for a breath to pass between them, finding himself staring at the amber of Kyoutani's eyes gone wide in surprise.

He smiles, _really_ smiles. It's probably the first time Shigeru has ever seen it, the way his grin stretches over his teeth, crinkling his eyes slightly, making the slight dimple on his right cheek stand out. There's a twitching feeling in Shigeru's chest, probably due to his heart stopping entirely at the sight. "Okay."

"Okay." He repeats in return, teeth digging into his lip as he leans back the rest of the way. He'd actually _like_ to kiss Kyoutani again, but there're more pressing concerns at hand. "Let me help with your leg."

Kyoutani grunts at that, and lays on his side, shoving the stained shorts down to expose where his thigh is still torn. The bleeding there has stopped, which eases some of Shigeru's lingering concerns about Kyoutani bleeding out, and he passes a clean wipe over to Shigeru, fingers tightening in the sheets in anticipation of it. Shigeru tries to give him a distraction before he starts cleaning the wound out. "Can I ask how long you've been a werewolf?"

"Nine years," Kyoutani answers, hissing through his teeth when Shigeru wipes the blood off his skin. He blinks at the answer, feeling his eyes go wide. He was expecting... he's not sure. But more than half of his life? Shigeru frowns.

"And you've always been with those four? Like... what? A wolf pack?" Distantly, Shigeru hopes that none of this is offensive in some way that he doesn't understand. Kyoutani lifts his head slightly, enough to grab a large pad of gauze and pass it over, shaking his head when he lays flat again.

"N- no. I've only really been around any of them since June." It's September now, with the heat of summer just starting to leave. Before Kyoutani joined up with the team again, if Shigeru's memory is right. He hums, thinking.

"If you didn't know them that well, why'd you stay?" He means it genuinely, but Kyoutani gives a little twitch, a frustrated grunt.

"Didn't wanna be alone anymore," his tone is final and as much as he would _love_ to press harder for an answer, Shigeru's starting to form a picture in his mind that serves well enough. He pauses in taping the gauze to Kyoutani's leg, watching him open and close his mouth for a moment on words that get stuck. "'M sorry, though. It's my fault you got pulled into this."

"You're not supposed to be _sorry_ that you saved my life," Shigeru rolls his eyes because that's easier than adding fuel to that particular fire. He finishes with Kyoutani's leg, wrinkling his nose at the blood on his hands and shaking his head. "You should get some sleep."

"I gotta get ready for school," he answers sharply, and Shigeru snorts, glaring down at him.

"You're not going anywhere, idiot." He gathers the first aid supplies up, tucking them haphazardly back into the chest they came from. "You can barely _walk_. I'll be right back."

He ducks out to wash his hands and put the chest away under the sink, muffling a yawn into his own shoulder. Part of his exhaustion has to be the adrenaline finally leaving him, but it's not as if he slept at all with a bleeding Kyoutani curled up in his lap. He's going to offer to stay on the couch before heading home, but he's surprised to find Kyoutani curled up with his back to the wall, a space left open on the bed. He stares for a moment, and Kyoutani's eyes dart away, pink coloring his face.

"I- I figured you'd probably have more questions or somethin'," he grumbles, by way of answer. And maybe after everything he's seen, he _should_ be more afraid of Kyoutani, or at least wary enough that he doesn’t take the offered spot, lying on his back. It seems to Shigeru, though, that the things he needs to fear are the things _outside_ of Kyoutani.

Unsurprisingly, and despite how tired his body is, Shigeru doesn't know how to convince himself to sleep. He traces his fingers over the weave of Kyoutani's sheets instead, humming in the back of his throat. "Is that why Oikawa calls you Kyoken?"

"Y- yeah. I thought he was just being an ass at first... I don't really know how he figured it out."

"Does it hurt?"

"My leg? It'll be fine," Kyoutani offers with a small shrug, but Shigeru shakes his head, turning it to the side so he can look over at Kyoutani instead. They aren't touching, really. There's a gulf of space three or four inches wide between of them, pushed to polar opposite sides of the bed. He's blushing, anyway.

"No, the um," Shigeru pauses, chuckling at how odd his question sounds even to himself. "The werewolf stuff."

"Oh," Kyoutani's brow furrows thoughtfully before he shrugs his shoulders. "Yeah. I guess. I'm so used to it now that I don't really think very hard about it."

A little shiver creeps down Shigeru's back at the memory of just _watching_ Kyoutani transform back. It _looks_ painful, at the very least. Part of him wants to roll to the side and really wrap his arms around Kyoutani, to rub the muscles of his back and to see if he could urge the boy to just _relax_ for once. But, despite having kissed him, Shigeru isn't sure the two of them are there yet. Especially if Kyoutani still thinks that Shigeru _hates_ him.

Well. It's not fair to make him do _all_ of the confessing, is it?

Shigeru sucks in a deep breath, and at the sound of it, Kyoutani's muscles jump tense again, like he's expecting something awful to happen. Shigeru tries not to let it stop him, rolling onto his side so he's facing Kyoutani all the way. The space between them seems smaller suddenly, with Kyoutani's face occupying the whole of his vision. This close, he can see the darker flecks of brown in his eyes, could count the long strands of his eyelashes if he wanted to. He and Watari have a bet on whether Kyoutani actually wears eyeliner, but this close it just seems like his eyes are naturally rimmed, made worse by the dark circles under them. Kyoutani blinks and Shigeru realizes that he's staring.

"I like you," he rushes through the words, letting them trip on their haste to leave his mouth, and when Kyoutani's eyes blink wide and surprised, it _definitely_ feels like the two of them are _close_. Kyoutani doesn't say anything, so Shigeru continues nervously. "I don't really know how I feel about the whole _werewolf_ thing, but... I like _you_."

That's as close as he can really get to explaining it, but Kyoutani is still silent, staring at him. His lips turn down into a slight frown, and he's the first one to break the lock of their gazes, looking down at his hands curled around the sheet. It occurs to Shigeru that maybe Kyoutani doesn't know _what_ to say. Still, with every ticking second that crawls by them in silence, Shigeru can feel more and more of his heart creeping into his throat. Kyoutani's voice is a grumble when he does speak. "You should probably stay away from me."

He continues before Shigeru cuts in and interrupts. "I'm not... safe. Obviously." His eyes dart to Shigeru's face, and then nervously away once more. "I don't want anything to happen to you."

"Is _that_ why you've been avoiding me?" Shigeru frowns, on the edge of snapping. He's trying not to since it's not like the way of thinking doesn't make sense, at least from the outside. But, Shigeru still finds himself irritated by it, especially when Kyoutani nods. "You're an idiot. I get a say in this too.

"It's not a _game_ ," Kyoutani rolls his eyes, like Shigeru, hasn't figured that out already. Like he's somehow less aware that they could be having a very different kind of conversation now. Like he's somehow less aware that Kyoutani killed someone, someone he knew, to keep Shigeru safe.

He _knows_ that they aren't playing a game anymore. Shigeru reaches a hand forward slowly, stroking the pad of his thumb over one of the half-healed scratches on Kyoutani's cheek. "You said you didn't want to be alone, didn't you? Then let me be with you."

Something about it seems to strike a chord in Kyoutani, because he turns his face toward the pillow and _groans_ , the tips of his ears crimson. Shigeru bites down on his lip to keep from grinning, reaching across the bed with the intent of lacing their fingers together.

The sound of the front door banging open and then closed makes Kyoutani bolt upright.

 

 

 

 

* * *

Kentarou is expecting danger, crouched by the door in preparation for it. He's painfully, screamingly aware of Yahaba sitting on the bed still, watching him with wide eyes.

And he knows before they find their way to his bedroom, that it's Iwaizumi and Oikawa in the house, but at the moment, it doesn't offer him any comfort. Oikawa swings the door open with a grin on his face, holding his hands up with a bark of laughter when he's immediately met by Kentarou glaring at him. "Good morning, Kyoken-chan!"

He can smell silver on both of them, and wary of it, he stumbles a step backward. Oikawa's eyes narrow, and Kentarou doesn't need the animal part of his brain to tell him that that smile is dangerous. "Do you know what _I_ got to spend my morning taking care of?"

“Specifically the dead body _I_ had to clean up.” His eyes travel between the two of them, and Kentarou’s stomach sinks through the floor. Oikawa continues, both eyebrows raised slightly. “Who wants to explain how that happened?”

Kentarou flinches back from the gaze slightly, shoulders curling inward with the instinct to make himself look as small as possible, rubbing at the side of his arm. “I didn’t… I didn’t _mean_ to.”

He’s not sure he wants to talk about _Heisuke_ and _dead_ at the same time, and the words make his throat feel thick like it’s been clogged with blood once again. Yahaba’s hand at the small of his back makes him jolt in surprise, and he starts speaking before Kentarou can put his thoughts together.

“He was protecting me.” Like any of it is really that simple. Oikawa and Iwaizumi exchange a look between the two of them, the kind that makes it seem like they're having an entire conversation that way, and Iwaizumi frowns.

"So it was _you_ that killed him?" The question is quick, point-blank, and Kentarou wants to curl up under the bed and hide from the world. Yahaba's hand is still resting on his back, he's not sure if Yahaba is even aware of it until he shies away from the touch, nodding his head.

"Y- yeah." His hands are wrapped around his sides, and Oikawa hums a thoughtful note.

"I tried to tell you, you know." Iwaizumi turns to glare at him as soon as he speaks, but Oikawa ignores it, continuing. "I told you they were _bound_ to sting you from the start, Kyoken-chan."

"Quit being an asshole," Iwaizumi snaps, jabbing at Oikawa with his elbow. "Can't change what happened now."

Oikawa huffs but nods his head, running his fingers through the back of his hair and leaning his head back with a sigh. "Right. Now we just have to deal with the mess."

"W- wait," Yahaba's eyes are wide, staring between the two of them and swallowing roughly. "How do you two even _know_ about any of this?"

"We're hunters, Yahaba-chan! It's kind of our job to know." His lips peel back into one of those smiles that makes Kentarou feel like he's about to be eaten whole, especially when the word _hunter_ is being used. He's fairly certain, at this point, that the two of them _don't_ mean deer.

Especially considering the _crossbow_ hanging from Iwaizumi's shoulder and the reek of silver around both of them. Even without the benefit of the smell, Yahaba's thoughts seem to travel down the same path, because he shakes his head and tries to inch his way in front of Kentarou. "You _can't_ mean that."

"Well leaving it to the two of you has hardly worked out," Oikawa huffs. "And we can't exactly ignore a pack of werewolves killing each other off or a new alpha."

"Wait, I'm not..." Kentarou frowns then pauses. He's not entirely sure _how_ becoming an alpha is supposed to work, but he certainly doesn't _feel_ any different. Mostly he aches, and he's tired and tired of having things to be afraid of (to be afraid _for_.) But, Iwaizumi nods his head, crossing his arms over his chest.

"If you're the one that killed him, then that's exactly what you are." He glances again to Oikawa, and Oikawa sighs softly.

"Exactly. So, that leaves a lot for me and Iwa-chan to deal with. On top of poor Yahaba-chan getting himself into trouble too."

"But you can't _kill_ him for that!" Yahaba now has himself shoved entirely between the two of them and Kentarou, a motion that he finds surprising more than anything. There's a snarl of discontentment at it in the back of his mind, too. _He's_ meant to protect _Yahaba_ from danger, not the other way around. Iwaizumi reacts before he can pull Yahaba out of the way, though.

His mouth drops slightly open, looking surprisingly _horrified_ at the suggestion before turning and cuffing Oikawa on the back of the head. “ _What_ did you tell them we were going to do?”

“Ow!” He yelps, breaking his stare with Kentarou to rub at the back of his head and pout at Iwaizumi. He looks less dangerous when he’s playing petulant, at least. “I never used the word ‘kill’ Iwa-chan! I’m not trying to _scare_ my precious kouhai.”

Yahaba doesn't relax, and now Kentarou _does_ nudge him out of the way, so at least the two of them are standing shoulder to shoulder. Oikawa looks at him with a slight frown, glancing away with an awkward laugh. “Well, maybe I tried a _little_.”

“So what _do_ you want, then?” Kentarou snaps, finding that he’s more than just a little annoyed with their bickering.

“Well first we had to make sure you were _okay_ ,” Iwaizumi raises both eyebrows. “As for dealing with it…”

He rubs at the back of his neck, looking over to Oikawa once more. Oikawa’s brow is furrowed slightly, deep in thought, before he shrugs. “Well, like Iwa-chan said. There’s not much we can do to change what already happened… we’ll just have to keep a better eye on the two of you in the future.”

“T- that’s it?” It’s not that Kentarou is _disappointed_ to hear that they aren’t going to be putting him down, but, it’s hard to reconcile against what he knows he’s _done_. He can feel Yahaba staring at the side of his head like he’s suddenly lost it, but he continues anyway. “I _killed_ someone… I’m much more a monster than Heisuke was.”

“That’s not--” Yahaba starts before getting cut off by a slow lift of Iwaizumi’s hand. Kentarou feels small under the way all three of them are staring at him, too exposed.

“Sometimes monsters pretend to be good people, Kyoutani-kun,” Iwaizumi’s hand is resting on the back of his neck like he’s nervous maybe, but his stare is steady and solid. “And sometimes good people are forced to do monstrous things.”

“Ah, Iwa-chan is so poetic,” his tone is teasing, but there’s a small smile on Oikawa’s face that even Kentarou would call _fond_.

“Whatever. Shut up,” Iwaizumi rolls his eyes, but Kentarou is almost, in the strangest way, _grateful_ for the way he glances at him and Yahaba before inclining his head. “It’s a lot to process, all of this. You can come talk to us if you have any questions.”

“And no volleyball until that leg is healed!” Oikawa snaps, apparently not having too much trouble in noticing the way that Kentarou is trying to keep as much of his weight as possible off of it. At least it hasn’t started bleeding through the gauze yet.

Small blessings, it seems.

He grumbles some kind of agreement and Oikawa nods, patting Iwaizumi’s shoulder with a thousand watt grin. “Good.”

 

 

 

 

* * *

At first, Shigeru is reluctant to go home and leave Kyoutani alone, but, it’s hard to find a reason to stay and keep an eye on him when he’s not bleeding anymore and it’s clear they both just need to sleep.

He spends the rest of the day asleep, only just barely waking up before his parents get home for the evening and getting dressed so he can at least _act_ like he went to school. It’s stressful--he wonders how Kyoutani manages to deal with it every month.

It feels like the insanity doesn’t really set in until he’s on his way to practice the next day. His brain gets stuck on it, replaying the same information again and again and trying to just make _sense_ of things. Kyoutani is a werewolf. A werewolf tried to bite him. Kyoutani killed someone to protect him.

Kyoutani is a _werewolf_.

He can barely make himself focus on practice and narrowly avoids taking a ball to the face twice, only thanks to Watari, who shoots him a strange, questioning look both times. Shigeru tries to shrug it off, tries to pull his mind back to the present.

It doesn’t really work, and when Kyoutani slinks into the gym just before the end of practice, with his face healed but a slight limp still in his step, Shigeru doesn’t meet his eyes. He spends a few minutes talking to Iwaizumi, being scolded for showing up at all most likely, and then leaves in a lingering sort of way.

Shigeru doesn’t go after him. He thinks that maybe he _should_ , maybe he’s supposed to, but… he needs the time to process what the hell is actually going on in his life now.

Oikawa Tooru, of course, doesn’t give him that time. He shows up as soon as lunch begins, a blinding smile in his face. “Come have lunch with me, Yahaba-chan!”

There’s no way to refuse the offer without seeming rude, and Watari is already rushing him out the door like Oikawa is some kind of suitor for his hand instead of the captain of their team. He grins, elbowing Shigeru. “He probably wants to talk to you about being captain next year. I’ll go eat with Kyoutani-kun.”

Right. Of course. There’s still a world outside of the strange turn that Shigeru’s life has taken--one where eating lunch with Kyoutani doesn’t make Watari feel strange at all. A nervous giggle bubbles out of Shigeru’s mouth. “Y- yeah. Okay.”

Finding a secluded spot outside with Oikawa turns out to be a challenge, being that there are girls who constantly want to sit with him, and so the two of them end up with their lunches in the empty gym, the door shut tightly behind them, splitting space on the coaches bench to eat.

“How are you holding up?” Oikawa asks it conversationally, and Shigeru almost chokes on his rice. He pats at his own chest, shaking his head to try and clear the tears from his eyes.

“H- how do you _deal_ with all of this? I can’t stop thinking about it.” He’s presently feeling like he’s on the edge of panic just at the mention. Oikawa laughs, light and easy.

“I didn’t just get dropped into it one day. My family has been hunters for generations, so have Iwa-chan’s,” he shrugs his shoulders. “It gets easier, though. You just have to readjust your way of thinking.”

“My way of thinking,” Shigeru repeats dubiously. “To include _werewolves_.”

“Or kitsune, or banshees, or wendigo,” Oikawa ticks them off on his fingers and Shigeru can feel himself going pale. “There’s a whole world that goes bump in the night, Yahaba-chan. Far more than domestic werewolf strife.”

“W- what do I do then? What if I don’t _want_ to know about any of this?” He’s snapping, which is unfair, but Oikawa isn’t being very comforting either.

“Well, I can’t wipe your memories, if that’s what you’re thinking.” Oikawa’s grin is unflappable, but his eyes are serious. “The only thing you can do at this point is un-involve yourself.”

“You mean stay away from Kyoutani-kun.” It’s not the first time that Oikawa’s told him that, but it’s the first time Shigeru’s felt like he should’ve listened.

“Yes, that would be what I mean.” Oikawa nods his head, then pauses thoughtfully. “But I don’t think that’s going to help at this point. You’re _both_ too stubborn to leave things alone.”

Shigeru would argue with that, but he’s pretty sure he would just be proving Oikawa’s point. Oikawa sets his chopsticks down, running his fingers through his bangs with a little hum. “I have an offer for you, instead.”

He raises both eyebrows, inclining his head curiously.

“Now, mind you this is a _secret_ between you and I, for now at least. But, I’ll teach you how to defend yourself from what’s out there--I’m not going to leave my precious kouhai a sitting duck,” he cocks his head slightly, watching Shigeru’s expression carefully. He must read how unsure Shigeru still is of all this (of course he does, he’s _Oikawa Tooru_ ) because he reaches out and squeezes Shigeru’s shoulder tightly. “The world has always been dangerous, Yahaba-chan. You just understand _why_ now.”

He returns to eating with that, and Shigeru stares down at his food, mostly lost in his thoughts.

 

It’s not that he means to _avoid_ Kyoutani while he’s unable to practice. It just… happens to work out that way. He doesn’t like being unsure of where they stand with each other, but, he’s not sure how to confront the topic either.

Nevermind that _he_ was the one to kiss _Kyoutani_. Nevermind that he was the one to _confess_ to Kyoutani.

But _Kyoutani_ was the one who said he should probably stay away, and when Shigeru takes his advice, it doesn’t seem much like he wants to push the matter.

Still, when he’s leaving on Monday afternoon, and Kyoutani is walking without a limp once again, Shigeru _almost_ runs to catch up with him.

That is until he sees Kyoutani leaving with the boy who’s always in a yellow jersey. His mouth goes dry, and he turns to take the longer way home.

 

 

 

 

* * *

Kentarou isn’t surprised to see Yuuji waiting outside of school for him. He’s not surprised when they turn the corner to find Motomu leaning against a fence, either, arms crossed and chin tilted just slightly downward.

“So,” he doesn’t entirely lift his head, but he does meet Kentarou’s gaze. “ _You’re_ supposed to be in charge now.”

“No,” Kentarou answers roughly because he’s never wanted to be the leader of anything _less_. Yuuji’s expression falls, and Kentarou pretends that he doesn’t notice. “I don’t wanna be part of any pack.”

“Told you,” Motomu snorts, looking at Yuuji and shaking his head. “Yuda ain’t gonna go anywhere near him, either.”

“Is he--” Kentarou doesn’t really know what he should be asking. Yuuji worries his teeth into his lower lip softly.

“He hasn’t left his room,” he shrugs his shoulders before tucking his hands back into his pockets. It’s just starting to get chill in the afternoons, the last bright bits of summer leeching out of the air. Kentarou nods his head because he’s not sure how else to respond.

“There’s another pack in this area.” It’s a fact that Kentarou _didn’t_ know. “I used to be a part of it--when I met the other two I left. We can probably go with them.”

Yuuji pauses at the word ‘we’, rubbing the back of his neck and looking over at Motomu with a slow smile spreading on his face. It’s unsteady like it might topple off his face if threatened. “What’re they like?”

“Annoying,” Motomu rolls his eyes, huffing the word out through his teeth. “Everything is stuffy and traditional… it used to piss me off.”

Yuuji is buzzing with questions, it's clear on his face, but Motomu gives a little jerk of his chin. “Come on, I'll introduce you.”

He turns to leave, and Kentarou doesn't say anything. Yuuji hesitates until Motomu is almost around the corner before waving and quickly jogging after him.

Kentarou walks home alone and pretends that fact doesn't hurt with the same throbbing as his leg.

 

It isn’t that he needs several days to work up the _courage_ to make his way over to Yahaba’s house--it’s that he’s not sure he would even be able to _stand_ after transforming. He waits until he can move _mostly_ without limping, and the slash in his side has healed almost all the way to try.

And rather than mope outside the window, he puts his paws on the sill and bumps his nose against the window, causing a low _thud_ sound against the pane of it and leaving an imprint of his nose there. It takes a few bumps before the sound makes Yahaba appear, looking confused at first.

It melts away into sharp annoyance, and he opens the window to lean out and hiss into the rapidly cooling night air. “ _What_ are you doing here?”

Deprived of actual _speech_ , Kentarou nudges his nose against Yahaba’s hand, hoping the face he’s making reads as _pleading_. Something about it must work, because Yahaba shifts to the wide, even though his expression doesn’t soften at all.

It takes several tries for Kentarou to actually hop through the window, stumbling across the floor with his nails clicking as he tries to make his leg support his weight once more. He almost knocks Yahaba down as well, and when Yahaba rights himself his glare only gets harder. “You’re going to hurt yourself more, you asshole!”

Kentarou ignores being scolded, for the most part, electing instead to sit in the middle of Yahaba’s floor with his tail thumping against the ground. Yahaba pauses for a moment before sighing out hard, his shoulders slumping, turning towards his dresser. He pulls out a pair of sweatpants, tossing them on the bed and crossing his arms. “I’m guessing you wanna talk.”

He looks away when Kentarou shifts back, and he’s not sure if it’s a reaction born from fear or some misplaced sense of modesty, but Yahaba does turn back around once Kentarou has the pants on. They’re a shade too tight around his waist and thighs, but still manage to be long enough to drag on the floor.

And, of course, he has no idea how to actually _start_ this kind of conversation. Everything is a confused muddle of emotion and it makes his head feel like it’s full of bruises, rather than the rest of him like he’s used to. But, Yahaba sighs softly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, I’ve been avoiding you.”

“I guess I kind of deserved it,” Kentarou manages to give him half a smile, and Yahaba’s gaze darts away quickly.

“I just… wanted to figure out how to deal with… all of this,” he sounds like he’s trying to explain things to himself more than to Kentarou, so Kentarou just gives a soft hum of understanding. He can’t exactly blame Yahaba for it. It’s not as if adjusting was easy for him, either.

“Do you still…“ With the realization of _what_ he was about to say, Kentarou cuts himself off, ears burning. Yahaba’s brow furrows for a moment before his face catches in a grin.

“Are you asking if I still _like_ you?” He sounds _far_ too smug about the whole thing, and Kentarou wants to pull his half a question back from thin air as much as he wants to shout _yes_. Yahaba chuckles, the bastard, and he doesn’t give a straight answer. “I talked to Oikawa-san… about how to process all of this.”

There’s a sinking feeling in the pit of Kentarou’s stomach because Oikawa Tooru is _hardly_ a fan of him or anything like him, but he nods his head anyway.

“He said that the world has _always_ been dangerous like this, even if I just didn’t know about it before,” Yahaba pauses, long enough for Kentarou to taste the regret in his mouth for coming here at all. He was _stupid_ to think that after the gratitude and adrenaline wore off that Yahaba would still want anything to do with him.

Heisuke said once that it wasn’t _healthy_ for them to be alone, but it seems to be all Kentarou is suited for.

“But you saved my life,” Yahaba finishes, taking a step closer and dropping his hand from the back of his neck. “I don’t think _you_ are all that dangerous.”

It _does_ take Kentarou a moment to pluck up enough courage to try and kiss Yahaba, but when he manages he’s met with a smile and fingers curling softly around the edge of his jaw.

It’s an entirely new feeling--not just the _kissing_ but having someone _want_ him to begin with. It’s a weight, a burden that he doesn’t expect.

That is the benefit, he supposes, in _not_ being alone. It’s a burden he doesn’t have to carry by himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that, friends, marks the end of Act One!!


	7. wandering wolf

_"Memory / is another name for ghosts_  
_and their awful hunger."_  
— Eugene Gloria

* * *

 

Like with all things, Oikawa moves fast in taking Shigeru under his wing and training him in hunting and the ways of the supernatural world. It’s overwhelming, of course, and it’s another thing on top of Shigeru’s ever growing pile of worries _(grades, his parents, volleyball, Kyoutani Kentarou, and now how to properly swing a knife)_ , but, in it’s own way, it’s comforting.

It means, in Shigeru’s mind, that he’ll never again be in the position of sitting helplessly while something _else_ tries to rip Kyoutani to shreds, and that on its own is worth the effort. Oikawa, at least, is good at teaching things, though Shigeru knew that already. The first thing he does is gift two knives to Shigeru with a wide smile and firm instructions to be careful with them. One made entirely of iron, one made entirely of silver.

“Silver will repel most things, as long as it’s pure. Iron tends to take care of the rest, and if neither of those works you have a much bigger problem on your hands.” Oikawa carries both of his own along with him, even though he _claimed_ the two of them aren’t on a _hunt_ right now.

A _visit_ is the order of the day, instead.

“Do you have to kill a lot of things?” The question makes Shigeru’s stomach twist nervously. He’s not sure if he could handle it since his introduction to all of this was _Kyoutani_ , but Oikawa shakes his head, frowning slightly.

“We try to avoid it whenever it’s possible.” He pauses, rubbing at his chin and frowning thoughtfully. They’ve just crossed from the trail into the forest, but Oikawa seems to know where he’s going. “Usually, it’s a matter of how much a threat they pose to _people_.”

Shigeru wants to argue that for whatever else they are, most things are, like Kyoutani, still people. But he bites his tongue for now, not sure he wants to know how that particular discussion will go with Oikawa. “And what is it that we’re visiting?”

“Oh! A phooka! They’re fairly laid back as long as you let me do the talking it shouldn’t be a problem,” Oikawa digs around in his bag before producing a bright red apple and winking. “Also, they like apples a lot.”

“A… phooka?” Shigeru blinks, massacring the word in his attempt to even get it out. Oikawa laughs, tucking the apple away again and ducking between branches.

“It’s a shapeshifting spirit… nice ones will bring you good luck. That’s why I’ve made friends with this one.”

With all that, Shigeru isn’t entirely certain _what_ to expect when they arrive in the spot Oikawa indicates. There’s a large nest in one of the trees, too big to hold any bird that Shigeru has ever seen in the area, and the heavy smell of _rot_ makes him cough and cover his nose, raising both eyebrows at Oikawa.

Oikawa whips his head around, looking more and more distressed by the moment, and it’s then that panic _actually_ starts to flutter in the center of Shigeru’s chest. His hand is on one of the knives tucked in his belt, squeezing the handle of it tightly in his fist. “This isn’t right.”

“W- what isn’t?” He doesn’t know enough about phookas to say that it could have just wandered off to take a nap or something else of the sort, but the sharp look in Oikawa’s eyes make him worry that something is very wrong with this situation.

“Stay here.” He points a finger at Shigeru before stalking off between the trees, leaving him to listen to the quiet crackle of footsteps and the sound of his own harsh breathing.

Oddly, those are the _only_ sounds that he can hear and, even with poorly trained ears, he’s sure there should be _more_ going on in the forest in the fall.

Oikawa returns a moment later, running his fingers through his hair and looking upset and disheveled in a way that Shigeru isn’t used to seeing from the usually so composed captain. He meets Shigeru’s eyes and barks out a surprised laugh. “Well. I guess we _won’t_ be visiting at all today.”

“Why…?” Shigeru asks slowly, following when Oikawa beckons him along. Just outside the small ring of trees, there’s a furry black body, the size of a bobcat with long ears and tiny insect-like wings on it’s back. It’s completely still, and there’s blood on the leaves around its backside near the stump of what must have been a tail at one point. Oikawa sighs.

“ _That_ was the phooka.” He’s scratching the back of his neck, frowning before rolling the corpse over gently with his foot. Shigeru leaps back on instinct, wrinkling his nose at the overpowering smell of it before catching what Oikawa is looking at.

The eyes of the creature are completely gone. Carved out.

“Poaching. Someone wanted the eyes and the tail,” he sighs, taking a step back and looking around. “It must’ve been a few days ago.”

“Does… that happen a lot?” Shigeru asks tentatively, and Oikawa huffs an annoyed breath, walking back toward the trail.

“Not around here.” There’s a familiar look on his face; deadly and thoughtful like he’s already flaying the problem to pieces in his mind. Shigeru frowns slightly as he follows after, wondering what _exactly_ that means.

 

 

 

* * *

Kentarou isn’t sure what dating someone is supposed to feel like. He’s not sure if he’s really doing a good job of dating Yahaba or not, but he _did_ pack a few extra rice balls in his lunch today to share, so that’s probably a decent enough start of all of it.

Yahaba, for his part, seems to be happy with the arrangement. It’s hard for Kentarou to picture the two of them doing anything like _kissing_ or _holding hands_ at school, but Yahaba doesn’t press. Instead, he gives Kentarou a bright smile when he sits down for lunch and shoves his algebra book to the side. “I’m quitting math.”

“You can’t.” He’s almost smiling, which in return only makes Yahaba grin brighter, shrugging his shoulders. They’re seated close together, enough that the motion almost makes the two of them touch, and something about that makes Kentarou’s heart leap in a way that’s probably stupid.

He likes it, though, the whole stupid thing.

“Here.” Gruff as ever, he unwraps his lunch and sets the extra onigiri on top of Yahaba’s food with a shrug, feeling his ears heat up when Yahaba stares at him. “I had extra rice.”

“I keep forgetting you can cook,” Yahaba hums to himself, taking a bite of one and raising his eyebrows. Kentarou _hopes_ that’s because it’s _good_. They taste normal to him, but Yahaba’s lunches are usually nice and made by his mom, so the food he’s used to is probably better already.

“So do I have to date Kyoutani-kun to get someone to cook for me?” Watari looks at both of them with a roll of his eyes and a laugh, and Yahaba snorts, tilting his chin up slightly.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You can’t possibly beat me in this.” He sounds haughty and cocky and Kentarou isn’t sure if he wants to laugh or smack Yahaba on the back of the head. He does _chuckle_ , in part because of Watari’s completely affronted expression.

Rather than continuing their argument like he’s used to, both of them turn to him with wide eyes. Kentarou stops chuckling, face turning red as he tries to duck away from both of their stares. “ _What?_ ”

“I… don’t think I’ve heard you laugh before.” Yahaba goes from _shocked_ to _leering_ at a breakneck pace. “You should do it again.”

“Of course you have,” Kentarou snaps, though he’s not sure that’s really true. He can’t entirely remember the last time he _did_ laugh, or what it was at. Still, he keeps his head turned away, trying to make himself stop blushing. “Maybe you’re just not very funny.”

Yahaba snorts, but bumps their shoulders together, and when Kentarou glances up he manages to catch the pink on Yahaba’s face as well and he doesn’t feel _quite_ so embarrassed about the whole thing. Watari glances between them but shrugs his shoulders, shoveling another bite into his mouth. “I’m surprised you haven’t started laughing at his math answers.”

“Shut up, Shinji,” Yahaba huffs, but there’s a smile at the corner of his lips and his shoulder is still lightly leaning against Kentarou’s as he eats the onigiri before the rest of his actual lunch.

Watari leaves a few minutes before lunch hour ends, citing the need to talk to another student, and Yahaba, with his face red, reaches down and laces their fingers together for a moment, giving Kentarou’s hand a small squeeze before letting go. “Those, um, they were really good. Thanks.”

Kentarou ducks his head slightly to cover for the way he smiles, nudging his shoulder back against Yahaba’s. “Sure.”

 

 

 

* * *

It’s late, late enough that usually Shigeru wouldn’t want to be out walking. But he has Kyoutani padding quietly at his side, apparently restless because of the slow waxing of the moon towards full and content to whine outside of Shigeru’s window until he came outside and participated in this little walk.

It’s not _so_ bad, though, since he knows he has Kyoutani with him, and the night is fairly warm. He thought about bringing a ball along to see if Kyoutani would chase it but decided to leave that for another time. (His instinct says yes, being that half the time if Kyoutani _sees_ someone throw something he tenses like he _wants_ to go get it.)

Kyoutani pauses, sniffing at a clump of grass, and Shigeru sighs, stopping a few feet away and waiting for him to either growl at the strange smell or decide to leave it alone. He looks over his shoulder with a slight smirk on his face. “Are you gonna pee on it?”

Still very much in his right mind, Kyoutani looks up with a growl and an expression that’s probably meant to be a glare. It’s slightly harder to interpret his feelings like this because he’s looking into the face of a wolf rather than the scowling mug he’s used to, but this one is pretty clear. He muffles a soft laugh behind his hand, and with a little snort of breath, Kyoutani trots up to his side.

He steps away quickly before he can get nipped on the thigh for the bad joke, reaching down and scratching the spot between Kyoutani’s ears that he _knows_ feels nice. Kyoutani huffs before pressing into the touch of Yahaba’s fingers, walking off ahead of him again.

At first, he doesn’t pay any attention to the footsteps approaching from around the corner. He doesn’t have a collar or anything of the sort on Kyoutani, but he’s unlikely to really try to interact with a stranger, anyway. Kyoutani pauses, sniffing at the air.

It becomes a much _bigger_ problem for Shigeru when it’s Matsukawa and Hanamaki who round the corner, convenience store snacks in their hands. It’s Kyoutani they spot first, stopping dead in the middle of the sidewalk to stare at the wolf sitting there, head tilted slightly. He doesn’t bark or growl at them but watches with sharp eyes instead. And then, of course, they look at Shigeru, gaping back at the both of them, not entirely sure how he should handle this situation.

“Ah, g- good evening,” he rubs the back of his neck, trying to swallow his nerves down and at least _act_ normal.

“Is that a fucking _wolf_?” Hanamaki looks from Kyoutani back to Shigeru, and Matsukawa hums.

“It looks like a regular wolf, not a fucking one.” There’s a quirk of a smile in his voice, and Hanamaki jabs at him with his elbow.

“I- it’s my dog!” Shigeru blurts, because what _else_ is he going to say. Kyoutani apparently bored now that he knows who they are, wanders to sniff at a mailbox instead, tail held high behind him. Hanamaki and Matsukawa _both_ stare at him.

“There’s no way that’s a dog,” Matsukawa shakes his head.

“It’s not even wearing a collar. It’s _yours_?” Hanamaki raises his eyebrows, and Shigeru nods, finally finding his voice again.

“H- his name is, um, Spike,” he manages, trying not to groan out loud at his own choice of name. Kyoutani glances back at him for that one, ears twitching, and Matsukawa laughs.

“Spike? Seriously, Yahaba-kun?” He whistles lowly, managing to grab Kyoutani’s attention, holding his hand out like he wants to pet him.

Kyoutani _does_ growl at that, backing up several steps with his fur starting to rise, and this is all just going _swimmingly_ for Shigeru. He gives Kyoutani a small glare before patting his thigh twice, taking a moment to _pray_ that Kyoutani will listen to him.

“C’mere, Spike!” He makes the command sharply, and Kyoutani stares at him with the flattest look that a wolf can manage before slowly walking over and sniffing at Shigeru’s fingers. He _almost_ sighs out in relief before rubbing softly between his ears, nodding his head. “Good boy.”

“Wow,” Hanamaki whistles, nodding his head. “Guess he _is_ Yahaba-kun’s dog. Does he know any tricks?”

Well, this may be pushing it a little, but Shigeru looks down at Kyoutani with a pleading expression before trying his luck once again. “Sit, Spike.”

Again, Kyoutani waits before actually obeying, probably to make it obvious that he doesn’t _have_ to do it if he doesn’t feel like it. His tail thumps twice against the ground before laying still and Shigeru nods his head. “Speak?”

Kyoutani, in response, growls, and Shigeru decides that’s the best he’s going to get. “Uh, I don’t have any treats on me.”

“Oh. I do.” Matsukawa grins before digging in his pocket and pulling out two small dog bones. He glances at Shigeru before apparently deciding to try his luck again, offering one of them to Kyoutani from his palm. Kyoutani takes this offering much better, though he still hesitates before gently taking the treat.

He crunches down on it, and Shigeru has to do his level best not to start _laughing_. Matsukawa feeds Kyoutani the second treat before reaching out to pet his ears with a laugh. “He’s nice.”

“Oh, um. Thank you,” Shigeru laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. He’s curious why Matsukawa has dog treats _already_ with him, but decides not to ask. Hanamaki must read the question in his raised eyebrows because in return he grins.

“Issei always has treats for his dog Kaiju,” he shrugs his shoulders, and Shigeru nods his head, wondering if he should try the same thing on Kyoutani.

He decides against it because he’d like to go on _without_ getting bitten whenever possible. He whistles once more, and Kyoutani turns back toward him with a little snort. “Let’s go home, Spike.”

Kyoutani makes a low woo-ing noise in response that Shigeru generally takes as an agreement, and with a wave, he turns back toward home with Kyoutani just behind him, trotting along at his heel.

When they get back to the house and Kyoutani is dressed again, Shigeru finally laughs about it, reeling Kyoutani in for a kiss before he goes home. “Guess I’ll have to get you a collar and a leash, huh?”

“Try it,” Kyoutani growls against Yahaba’s lips.

 

 

 

* * *

For the first time in a long, long time, Kentarou feels like _himself_ even as the moon rises full and heavy in the sky. It won’t last, of course; it never does. He knows too well that the full moon belongs entirely to the wolf in the back of his mind.

But, despite how badly the last cycle went for him, he feels… centered. Like he can actually _trust_ himself. The woods around him are dark, and there’s only the soft noises of other animals and no trace of another wolf in his senses.

For a brief moment, he _does_ wonder where Yuuji and Motomu are.

His leg has healed enough that the transformation of his body is no more painful than usual--the way his spine shrinks and changes shape, the twisting and cracking of the bones of his legs, the way his hands reshape to create paws--it hurts, but in a way that’s familiar. A part of his life that’s predictable and regular.

For the wolf, the night is exciting. There are things to chase and new smells to pursue, and he finds himself shooting through low bushes after a small brown rabbit, just shy of being able to catch one of its legs in his jaws. Kentarou himself wasn’t hungry before the change, but the first thing the wolf _always_ wants is to hunt.

Emerging from the bush, there’s a thundering crack from behind him, and the heavy and sharp smell of sulfur, of burning.

When he recognizes the smell of silver underlying it, it’s because there’s a searing, burning feeling that shoots up his back, between his front legs, and nicks the shell of his ear. It’s hard to tell how deep the wound is, but the surprise knocks him from his feet, rolling to the side and yelping at the feeling of the silver eating away his fur and flesh.

The unknown danger makes the wolf panic. _Home_ , it screams, from the back of his mind. Everything is a mixed jumble, and when he does pick himself back up to his feet, he whirls in a direction he’s not certain of, freshly fallen leaves spraying behind him as he runs.

It makes sense that he ends up outside of Yahaba’s front door, clawing at it with loud, whining yelps. He can feel blood running down his back, dripping off the furry ruff between his shoulders. The door swings open, and he doesn’t bother to check if it even _is_ Yahaba before sprinting between the person’s legs and diving under Yahaba’s bed to hide.

 

 

 

* * *

Shigeru was _not_ expecting to spend his evening with a fully grown wolf under his bed, crying softly and tracking blood from a wound that Shigeru didn’t even catch a glance of when Kyoutani rocketed past him and into the house.

He’s suddenly glad that his parents went out for dinner because he’s not sure how he would have even _tried_ to explain this. Tama is on the other side of the room, and she hisses at the strange, bleeding animal before sprinting her way out of the room.

Left with few other options, Shigeru kneels down a few feet away from the bed, maintaining a careful distance before extending his hand slowly. “Kyoutani?”

Kyoutani snarls, snapping at the air between them before sinking further back under the bed, out of reach, and Shigeru pulls his hand back with a soft sigh. Full moon. Werewolf. Of course, he’s not really home at the moment. He settles for sitting by the foot of the bed instead, wrinkling his nose at the overwhelming smell of burnt flesh and gunpowder, finding it only makes him _more_ worried about the situation.

When Kyoutani fails to respond to a few more soft calls of his name (even his given name, because Shigeru is feeling bold in his worry), Shigeru picks himself off the floor to at least clean up the blood he tracked inside. He knows that Kyoutani heals quickly, and he can only hope that this injury isn’t too severe since the chances of getting a look at it without getting himself bitten are fairly low at the moment.

He keeps his door shut all night and makes himself a nest of pillows and blankets to sleep in on the floor since he can’t make himself climb into bed over Kyoutani while he’s still shuffling around and whining. Luckily, his parents don’t decide to check on him or say goodnight, probably having seen the light in his room was already off when they got home.

 

In the morning, there’s a very tired, naked Kyoutani under Shigeru’s bed, and ultimately, this is a relief. He tries to sit up and only manages to hit his head on the wooden slats that hold the mattress up, cursing at them.

“Ow. What the _fuck_?” He groans, shimmying his way out awkwardly. Usually, Shigeru would laugh but instead he’s stuck staring at the long cut between his shoulder blades. He expected it to be partially healed already, but the skin is still torn open and raw, looking almost burned at the edges, seeping blood onto his back still though at a much slower rate. Kyoutani hisses, trying to reach it over his shoulder. “Fucking _silver_.”

“Hold still,” Shigeru snaps at him, rolling his eyes and grabbing the first aid kit already stashed in his room the night before, kneeling down behind Kyoutani and laying a hand on his shoulder in a way that he _hopes_ is comforting. “What happened to you?”

“I don’t… I don’t really remember. _Something_ hit me and I just… panicked, I guess,” he sighs, shoulders sagging slightly, sitting obediently still while Shigeru wipes the blood off his back, frowning at the cut. “I remember that I wanted to go home… I must’ve gotten, um, confused.”

His ears are pink when he makes the excuse, and Shigeru’s stomach rocks slightly. Still, he’s trying to focus on the task at hand, even when he presses a tiny kiss to the back of Kyoutani’s neck just to watch the warm skin flare an even brighter shade of red. “And it was silver?”

“Y- yeah. That’s why it’s still like that,” he hisses softly as Shigeru tapes gauze over the spot. Shigeru wonders if maybe he should ask Oikawa for first aid tips as well because his bandage looks shoddy at best.

“Is… is there somewhere safer for you to um, transform?” His thumb is rubbing idle circles around Kyoutani’s side, and he shrugs in response.

“Not really.”

“Well... “ This suggestion is not going to go over well. “What about here?”

Kyoutani flinches away from his touch. “That’s not a good idea.”

 

 

 

* * *

Kentarou has his first transformation, his first full moon, burned into his mind. Unlike other memories from his childhood, ones that get jumbled with the sensory input from the wolf, the mixture of confusion and instinct that guided him, this one is entirely clear.

He’s eight years old, it’s the year after they lost his mom, and three weeks ago he got bit by a dog, badly enough that he had to go to the hospital and get shots and stitches in his side. Kentarou isn’t sure how he _knew_ what was going to happen to him; he’s never once found or spoken to the person who turned him, since the beginning he’s been coping alone.

But that night, he _knew_. He locked the door to his bedroom and sat on the bed, staring out the window and waiting for the sun to set, for the moon to rise. The wolf was already a piece of him, a constant pressure against the back of his mind, and then it was practically drooling for freedom.

It hurt. In ways, he wasn’t prepared for, didn’t understand, the forced changing of his body. It’s impossible for him to forget still, the sound of his own bones cracking, the way the wolf tore itself free from his skin.

He destroyed his room looking for a way out. A child couldn’t transform into an adult wolf, but even small as he was he had sharp teeth and claws and the wild desire to be _free_. His bed and his dresser are still covered in bites and scratches, and half his clothing and the few stuffed animals that he’d clung to ended up creating a shredded mess on the floor.

Looking at the mess he’d made in the morning, it was the first time that Kentarou understood he was a _monster_ now. He cleaned up what he could of the mess, hid the things that he broke, but it wasn’t enough to avoid the fit of rage when his dad found the scratches and bites on the furniture and the scores from his claws on the window sill and by the door.

 

Yahaba Shigeru is nothing if not annoyingly persistent, glaring at Kentarou even while he gets dressed in clothes that border on too tight but fit decently enough otherwise. Kentarou, just as stubborn, glares back at him. “It’s a _bad_ idea. You could get hurt.”

“You didn’t hurt me last night!” Yahaba sounds frustrated, exasperated. Kentarou is probably five minutes from getting shoved against the door if the past is anything to go by. “My parents leave this afternoon to go visit my brother. I can stick you in my room and sleep on the couch.”

“And what are you going to tell them when your room gets wrecked?” Kentarou raises both eyebrows before shaking his head. “I can’t… predict how I’ll act.”

Yahaba sighs, and there’s no venom at all to it. Instead, he cups Kentarou’s face between both hands and frowns at him. “We can talk to Oikawa and Iwaizumi. They might be able to help somehow.”

“I’m still not convinced that Oikawa isn’t going to shoot me.” He tries to turn away only to find that Yahaba won’t let him, staring seriously down at him.

“I trust you, you know. And I’m not scared of you,” his finger strokes back and forth over the swell of Kentarou’s cheek bone. Sometimes, Yahaba manages to handle him so _softly_ that it almost hurts. He can’t _possibly_ know these things that he’s so confident in, and yet he makes Kentarou want to trust himself the same way that Yahaba seems to trust him. There're the beginnings of a smile at the corners of his mouth, and he knows that Yahaba can tell because he grins in response. “I’ll prove it to you.”

“Prove what?” Kentarou snorts, even though he’s smiling all the way now, because Yahaba is still holding onto him, close enough to kiss if Kentarou were brave enough.

“That you won’t hurt me. That I _trust_ you.” Yahaba _is_ brave enough and leans down to touch their lips together, meeting Kyoutani’s smile with his own.

“I’m not… doubting that you trust me.” He still feels pathetically unused to people even expecting real answers from him, and finding the words he wants is always a struggle, but Yahaba is patient, watching his brow furrow while he thinks. “I just don’t know if you _should_.”

“Kyoutani,” Yahaba sighs at him, looking a lot like he wants to throw his hands up in frustration. “I don’t want you to get hurt either, you know.”

“It’s dangerous!” He snaps in return, and they both retreat a step away from each other. Part of him wants to _shake_ Yahaba, just to try and get it through his head. “ _I’m_ dangerous! You can’t just… pretend that I’m not and hope that it just… ends up being true.”

Yahaba frowns, shaking his head sharply. “That isn’t true. I know it isn’t.”

“Don’t be stupid. Heisuke almost bit you… _I_ could’ve bitten you.” It’s a fact his mind rarely forgoes the chance to torment him over. It’s almost equal, the number of nightmares he has about ripping Heisuke Shido’s throat out and the ones he has about making a mistake and hurting Yahaba. Yahaba opens his mouth, preparing to shout something in return before closing it slowly, something in his expression going soft again.

“Kyoutani.” He takes a step into the open space between the two of them. “Kyoutani, you _aren’t_ like him. You’re not a monster and you’re not a wild animal.”

Kentarou wants to argue that, badly, and he opens his mouth to before Yahaba stops him with a glare. “If you say you are, I’ll punch you.”

He snorts softly, rolling his eyes, but doesn’t push his luck either. He’s gone a record three weeks without _anybody_ punching him, it’d be a shame to give Yahaba the win.

“If you can’t trust _yourself_ then just… trust me, okay?” His brows are knitted together, and the expression on his face is _sad_. Kentarou scowls before he nods his head.

“Fine. But… we should clear all of this out at least.”

 

 

 

* * *

Shigeru would be lying if he said he wasn’t _nervous_ about all of this. Not scared, exactly. He wasn’t lying when he said he trusted Kyoutani, when he said he _wasn’t_ scared of him.

But, nervous is something else, something that flutters in the pit of his stomach while the both of them work at pushing his dresser out into the hallway. The desk and the bed are both too heavy to move, but Kyoutani insisted on Shigeru taking the sheets and pillows off and piling them up outside as well. Curtains drawn tight, there’s only a single dusty orange beam of sunlight to let them know that it hasn’t quite set yet.

“Does this thing have to be so _damn heavy_?” Kyoutani groans, resting his head against the wood surface with a grimace. Shigeru resists the urge to ask about his back, knowing that Kyoutani will just get all huffy about how it doesn’t bother him. Shigeru’s fairly certain that he’s not used to wounds taking time to heal.

“You’re the one who said it had to go!” Shigeru grumbles in return, shaking his head. He’s not sure _what_ kind of damage Kyoutani thinks he’s going to do to the room, really. He digs his teeth into his lip, nodding when the dresser is safely out of the way, joining a pile of books and the papers from his desk. Tama has taken up residence in a pile of his dirty clothes, regarding Kyoutani with annoyed skepticism. Kyoutani pauses before pulling his shirt over his head, wrapping it around his hand before picking up the silver knife that _was_ hidden underneath Shigeru’s pillow, handing it over with a slight frown.

And for a moment, Shigeru refuses to reach his hand out to take it.

“I won’t need it,” he grumbles, even as he relents to Kyoutani’s glare and takes it, tucking it into his belt like Oikawa showed him. He’s not sure what else to say on the subject, but Kyoutani beats him to it.

“I probably won’t be able to get through the door or anything… so just keep it shut and you _won’t_ need it,” he huffs, then deflates slightly, hesitating before leaning forward and pressing a small kiss to Shigeru’s cheek. “If nothing else I’ll be happier with it out there.”

“Alright. Fine,” Shigeru grumbles, hoping his face isn’t red. It’s not the _first_ time that Kyoutani has kissed him, of course, but his displays of affection are rare, and always shy. Shigeru sighs, looking around his now barren bedroom. “Okay. Anything else?”

Kyoutani looks around as well before shaking his head, brows knitting together. “Just. Don’t open the door.”

“I know, I know,” Shigeru rolls his eyes, wondering if he _should_ have told Oikawa what they were planning.

Well, it’s too late now, he’s sure. Instead, he presses a kiss to Kyoutani’s cheek in return, watching the last ray of sunlight from his window start to fade sitting on the floor with him before walking out as well, pulling the door tightly shut.

He sits on the floor in front of the door, one of his pillows under his ass, his back to the wall. It’s not long before he can _hear_ Kyoutani transforming—mostly from his soft groans and the loud, sickening crack of bones that makes him want to clamp his hands over his ears and hide. It stops after a moment, only to be followed by loud, fierce growling.

The scratching is loud, more than Shigeru expects it to be, and it makes it impossible to place what part of the room Kyoutani might be in. He goes from snarling to pacing, and then, after an amount of time that Shigeru isn’t sure of, he starts to whimper.

Shigeru tries to ignore the sound at first, but it only grows louder and more pained, and he starts to worry that in all of his struggling Kyoutani managed to open the scratch on his back again. He sucks in a deep breath before pushing himself to his feet, sliding the knife out of its sheath before gripping the handle of the door, twisting the knob slowly and opening it just a crack.

“Kyoutani?”


	8. daredevil

 

_“You’ve a good heart. Sometimes that’s enough_  
_to see you safe wherever you go._  
_But mostly, it’s not.”_  
—Neil Gaiman

* * *

 

The knife in his hand feels heavier than Shigeru remembers it being before. Even with it clutched so tightly in his hand that his knuckles ache, he’s not sure what he’s going to actually _do_ with the blade other than hope the silver alone is enough to deter Kyoutani from ripping his throat out.

When the door slams shut again behind him, Kyoutani whips around, ears pinned back to his head, tail low and hackles raised. He doesn’t _seem_ to be bleeding, which is good, but Shigeru can’t exactly _move_ with the wolf staring at him like he is now. The room around them is dark, with only a few weak splinters of moonlight showing through the curtain, and it’s hard to make out Kyoutani’s eyes, a gleam in the low light. His teeth, however, are much easier, since his lip peels back over a snarl to show off the whole row of them.

He seems… uncertain, sniffing at the air and snarling every time Shigeru so much as _twitches_. The knife doesn’t seem to be something that registers when Kyoutani takes a tentative step forward. Shigeru tries to adjust his grip, to look more threatening, but Kyoutani’s teeth snap at the air between them and he freezes again.

It’s hard for Shigeru _not_ to remember the last time he saw Kyoutani like this, a beast devoid of the person he knows, and the memory makes his stomach twist into knots. There’s no promise that Kyoutani isn’t remembering the same thing when he looks at _Shigeru_ —the same danger, the fight with Heisuke…

Shigeru does _not_ reach his fingers out toward Kyoutani. He doesn’t have an interest in getting them bitten clean off. Kyoutani sniffs again, and though his body remains taut, his ears lift slightly. Shigeru swallows around the lump of fear in his throat, squeezing his fingers around the knife for reassurance.

“K- Kyoutani?” He keeps his voice soft, and at least, this time, Kyoutani doesn’t growl at him. Feeling slightly encouraged, Shigeru lowers his hand slowly. Kyoutani’s eyes track the motion closely but he remains still. The fur along his back no longer stands on end, and Shigeru almost breathes out a sigh of relief.

He stays pressed against the door until Kyoutani loses interest for the moment, turning to paw at the sill of his window with a whimper instead. It explains the crying, at least, and now Shigeru _does_ sigh softly in relief. Cautiously, he makes his way over to sit on the bed, drawing his legs up under him and tucking the knife into the leather sheath that Oikawa gave him. Kyoutani glances over but has apparently decided he’s bored with Shigeru for the moment.

Kyoutani doesn’t tire of looking for a way out until well into the night when Shigeru is yawning and wishing that he could sneak back into the hall and fall asleep. He’s not sure it would be wise to do so in the same room as Kyoutani. He closes his mouth after a long yawn, only to find Kyoutani staring up at him with a slow blink. His body language is relaxed now, and when Shigeru turns his hand so his palm is facing upward and extends it slightly, he leans forward to sniff at Shigeru’s fingers.

He doesn’t go so far as to lick them, but he does nose at them slightly before turning his head away. Shigeru hesitates before reaching to scratch lightly at the side of his neck.

For a moment, Kyoutani goes rigid again before he decides that Shigeru’s touch isn’t a threat and relaxes, though he doesn’t lean into the petting either. Shigeru drops his hand, watching Kyoutani go back to exploring the room, though he seems slightly more calm now than when he was trying to claw the door off of its hinges.

 

 

* * *

As far as mornings go, Kentarou has certainly had _worse_ ones, even if he’s not sure _why_ he’s waking up naked with Yahaba’s arms wound around him for several minutes after he blinks his eyes open.

When it catches up with him, he pushes his way to sit up, feeling panic rise like bile into the back of his throat. Next to him, Yahaba’s breathing is slow and even, stretched out on the bare mattress with his arms still reaching toward Kentarou. He tries to ignore the shake in his hands when he reaches toward Yahaba, rolling him gently onto his back.

Yahaba groans at the motion, and Kentarou snaps his hand back. When Yahaba opens his eyes, Kentarou is still staring at him with one hand hanging in the air, eyes wide, trying to decide if he can be trusted enough to touch him _at all_. But slowly, Yahaba stretches his arms over his head, and smiles in a lazy sort of way, like he’s not quite awake enough to really command his expression.

“You’re not wearing pants,” he chuckles, reaching like he intends to snag Kentarou in his grasp again.

“W- what are you doing?” Kentarou growls, batting Yahaba’s hand back from him mostly because he’s not sure how he _should_ react. He doesn’t know how to ask if he hurt Yahaba and doesn’t remember, or what Yahaba is even _doing_ here. Yahaba snorts, apparently annoyed by the rejection but too tired to actually fight with him, closing his eyes again.

“You were being whiny so I came in and checked on you,” he says simply, nuzzling his face into the crook of his arm with a small hum. “You should get me a pillow when you go get your pants.”

“I could’ve _killed_ you!” Kentarou snaps, pushing at Yahaba’s side now, frowning. Yahaba opens his eyes once more, only, this time, he’s _glaring_.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not like I walked in here _unarmed_ ” Shigeru snorts, shoving Kentarou in return. “Go get pants. And pillows. I’m not done sleeping yet.”

Kentarou desperately wants to argue this with Yahaba, to yell at him for taking such a risk with his safety. But… Yahaba certainly seems like he’s not in the mood to listen and so instead he drags himself out of the bed to do as he’s told. He returns in shorts, with two pillows tucked under his arm, to Yahaba grasping for him once more.

Despite himself, Kentarou smiles just a little, passing the pillows over before allowing Yahaba to drag him back onto the mattress, wrapping both arms around him like he’s worried Kentarou is going to try and escape. He’s clearly more awake, pressing a smile against Kentarou’s shoulder. “You wanted me to pet you all night.”

“S- shut up,” Kentarou isn’t sure why that makes his ears burn, and Yahaba laughs softly, chin hooked over his shoulder.

“You did. And you jumped right up here and curled up next to me.”

“You’re such an asshole,” Kentarou grumbles, shaking his head and trying to hide his smile against the pillow. Yahaba laughs, and Kentarou isn’t expecting the small squeeze of the arms around him, nor the way it makes him feel so… reassured.

Yahaba dozes off again, only shifting to make himself comfortable, apparently content with clinging himself to Kentarou’s back while he sleeps.

 

 

* * *

Shigeru doesn’t expect to spend the first fifteen minutes of his hunting lesson with Oikawa watching his senior stare at the screen of his phone with an increasingly deep frown, only broken up by his pauses to rapidly tap out text messages in response to whatever he’s seeing.

“Sorry, Yahaba-chan!” His smile, when he tucks his phone away, is strained in a way that Shigeru isn’t used to seeing like he’s barely managing to hold onto it. His fingers twitch slightly. “We’re going on a field trip, it seems!”

“A… field trip,” Shigeru repeats, voice flat, and Oikawa nods. He must realize that he isn’t making much headway because he sighs, his shoulders slumping.

“Someone found a member of the local Kitsune clan dead two nights ago with all of her tails cut off.” There’s a grimace on his face as he describes it, and Shigeru isn’t sure _how_ to process that information, to begin with. “And… after the incident with the phooka, we can’t be too careful.”

“They’re related?” Shigeru blinks, not sure that he knows enough about either creature to understand. Oikawa hums, inclining his head as he starts walking away from the school, in a direction that Shigeru realizes will lead them to the train station.

“Well. They _could_ be. It’s hard to say since I don’t know what these nasty poachers _want_.” He sounds more and more frustrated as he speaks, ending with his hands clenched around the strap of his bag like he’s hoping it will turn into a neck he can wring. “It’s not as if hunting Kitsune is a booming industry on its own.”

“Oh,” Shigeru responds, rubbing the back of his neck. “And where are we going?”

“To talk to a _very_ annoying little fox.”

 

Futakuchi Kenji does _not_ seem very happy to see either of them. Shigeru decides it’s better _not_ to ask how Oikawa knew he would be hanging outside this specific store with a Popsicle melting sticky sweet in his hand and a frown on his face when the two of them approach.

“You aren’t actually trying to intimidate me, are you Oikawa-san?” he hums, raising both of his eyebrows and glancing between them. “If you were trying to scare me shouldn’t you have brought a weapon along?”

Shigeru has already decided that he’s not a fan of Futakuchi. Oikawa laughs, lilting and probably forced, before shaking his head.

“You had some trouble recently, didn’t you?” He keeps his tone light, conversational, and Futakuchi’s eyes narrow slightly in suspicion. It’s too late for Shigeru to realize that he doesn’t know anything about Kitsune or how you’re supposed to act around them since he certainly can’t ask now. After a moment, Futakuchi huffs, rolling his eyes and folding his arms over his chest.

“It’s none of _your_ business, but yes.” When Oikawa waits patiently for more, instead of responding, Futakuchi rolls his eyes. “How do I know _you_ aren’t the one who killed her?”

“Please!” Oikawa yelps, scowling in return. “I haven’t looked twice at you or any of your friends. I’m investigating a problem with poaching.”

“Seems like you aren’t doing a very good job of it,” Futakuchi hums, tossing his bag over his shoulder. “In any case, I don’t really know anything about it.”

“You can’t at least _try_ to be useful, can you?” Oikawa sighs, throwing his hands up in the air, and Futakuchi laughs in return as he shrugs.

“It’s not like we go running around in packs. I didn’t know her, and she managed to lose all three of her tails.” The way he says it is a scoff, but there’s something in his face that doesn’t match the derision in his voice. Still, Oikawa simply huffs and shakes his head, waving Futakuchi off.

“Thank you for nothing then. Off you go.”

Futakuchi rolls his eyes, tossing the melted remains of his Popsicle into the trash before pausing, nostrils flaring when he glances at Shigeru, raising both eyebrows. “Is that your new pet alpha? He _reeks_.”

“ _Reeks_?” Shigeru scoffs, trying to resist the urge to sniff at himself. He’s fairly sure that he won’t be able to smell _werewolf_ , no matter how hard he tries. Still, the accusation is offensive.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Oikawa scowls, narrowing his eyes when Futakuchi tilts his head back, sniffing the air again before chuckling.

“Maybe I’m just curious,” he smirks, and Shigeru isn’t sure if it’s just the fading light that makes his teeth seem _sharper_ or not but a shiver creeps down his spine. He glances at Shigeru once more, tucking his hands into his pockets. “You might need a shower. And some new clothes. The wet dog smell can _really_ stick around, y’know?”

He turns the corner with a laugh, and Oikawa heaves a sigh. “That didn’t go as planned.”

“You had a _plan_?” Shigeru lifts both his eyebrows, still curious about the fact that someone can _smell_ Kyoutani on him. It’s unsettling, to say the least.

“I had _hope_ that he would be more willing to help.” The defense of his plan isn’t really more convincing than the plan itself. “Maybe I _should_ have dragged Kyoken-chan along to muscle him a little bit.”

“No.” Shigeru shakes his head in return, smile gone as quick as it came. “He doesn’t want to be a part of any of this.”

“It’s not going to be that simple in the long run.” Oikawa seems to hesitate for a moment after he speaks, taking in the tense posture of Shigeru’s shoulders, the way his fingers curl in toward fists. “He can’t just stop being one of _them_.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Kyoken-chan can’t just keep running away from the fact that he’s an alpha now. It won’t work.” Oikawa shakes his head slowly, sighing. “He should’ve taken charge of those other three troublemakers when he had the chance.”

“Why? What does it matter?” It seems like there’s something about all of this that Shigeru isn’t understanding, which is a feeling that he’s become far too used to recently.

Oikawa frowns, waving Shigeru into the store after him and picking his way to the back, examining the sweets tucked into the freezers there. It’s too cool in early November for Shigeru to really want any sort of ice cream, but the weather doesn’t seem to deter Oikawa in the least. “Werewolves, in general, are supposed to be in groups. The bigger the better, really. But _alpha_ werewolves are different. They only _exist_ because of their packs.”

“So… what happens if an alpha _doesn’t_ have a pack?” Shigeru asks, feeling nerves tremble their way through his voice. Oikawa shakes his head, looking at the ice cream in his hand with a little frown on his face.

“I don’t know that it’s happened before, but it won’t be good for him,” he glances at Shigeru’s face, turning toward the front of the store again slowly. “You also have to consider that he doesn’t have a pack to help keep him safe…”

“Keep him safe?” Shigeru blinks, his thought wandering back to Kyoutani being shot at. He wants to claim that _he’ll_ be the one doing that, but he’s not so sure that he’s really able to.

“Especially if any other werewolves hear about a lone alpha wandering around.” There’s significance to the way he says it, and it takes Shigeru a moment to realize.

Kyoutani became an alpha because he _killed_ the previous one.

He swallows, watching Oikawa buy his treat and following him out of the store with a knot starting to form in the pit of his stomach.

 

 

* * *

For once, it’s not at Yahaba’s specific urging that Kentarou finds himself trying to seek out one of his teammates before practice starts. He’s not sure he wants Yahaba to know what he’s doing at all, in fact.

Kindaichi, as it turns out, isn’t hard to find. He’s standing outside of another first-year classroom with a neutral look on his face that melts away to surprise when Kentarou shows up, blinking his eyes rapidly. “K- Kyoutani-san!”

“Hey.” Not for the first time, Kentarou wishes it weren’t so obvious that most of the team is scared of him. He’s trying to look relaxed, or at least not look like he came to beat Kindaichi up and take his lunch money. Awkwardly, he clears his throat and rubs at the back of his neck. “Do… you have a minute to talk?”

“U- um.” He whips his head around like he’s looking for some kind of escape before slowly nodding, curling his hands into fists around the strap of his bag. His chin tilts to the side, exposing part of his neck, a motion that Kentarou isn’t sure he even notices himself making.

This conversation is going to be _far_ worse than he’s been picturing in his head.

But, he can’t just _ignore_ the fact that all the signs are there—Kindaichi and his sudden enjoyment of rare meat, the way he’s started playing more aggressively on the court, the fact that he _almost_ got mad at someone a few weeks ago when the moon was full.

He knows that Kindaichi wasn’t _bitten_ , and that’s enough to keep him from transforming entirely, but he was _scratched_ , and it seems that has some kind of effect on him.

“Follow me.” Kentarou starts walking before he gets an answer, and he isn’t really surprised when Kindaichi’s footsteps click behind him without question, despite the slightly surprised noise that he makes. He stops when they’re under one of the stairwells, away from people who might overhear or think that he’s up to something.

Kentarou has a reputation, it’s hard not to be aware of it.

“Have you, um,” he stops, rubbing the back of his neck. He can’t exactly ask if Kindaichi has been feeling like a _werewolf_ lately. “Have you been feeling okay?”

Kindaichi blinks, his mouth dropping open slightly in surprise before color jumps into his face, his cheeks flushing bright red. “I- it’s nothing bad! I’m not sick, or anything.”

Kentarou is about to explain more of what he means, but Kindaichi starts speaking again before he has a chance. “Just… some things have been a little, um, odd.”

"It's been a lot harder to control your temper, right?" Kentarou asks though it's not as if Kindaichi _had_ much of a temper, to begin with, at least from what he could tell. Kindaichi hesitates before nodding his head slowly, throat bobbing around a swallow.

"Y- yeah. I guess," he rubs the back of his neck, opening his mouth before hesitating, and Kentarou knows what he wants to ask.

It's not as if he's _known_ for his self-control, after all.

"I used to try the counting to ten thing a lot," he admits, speaking slowly, trying to buy himself time to think through what he actually wants to say. Kentarou isn't any good at advice, and it's not as if anyone has ever really looked up to him before. It's not as if Kindaichi looks up to him _now_ , but, he's not sure anyone else would actually be able to _help_ with this. "Sometimes it works... but mostly I have, um, there’s a song that helps me calm down, I guess.”

Kindaichi blinks softly at him, eyes bright and curious. “A song?”

“Y- yeah.” Kentarou wishes it were as simple as a track he could play off of his phone but it’s really just an old fragment of memory that he hums to himself as a distraction. There’s a rolling feeling in his stomach, and he winds up staring at Kindaichi for almost a minute before he plucks up enough courage to even _try_ and hum loudly enough for Kindaichi to hear.

He doesn’t remember where the song itself even comes from, not really, only that it helps him relax. He knows his face is bright red by the time he finishes, and Kindaichi is still staring at him like he’s expecting to get punched in the gut, mouth slightly open. When he realizes that Kentarou is finished, he snaps his mouth shut and flushes red as well. “T- thank you, Kyoutani-san!”

Kentarou nods his head, hoping to _escape_ as quickly as he can from here, but Kindaichi doesn’t flee like he expects. “Um, you—you’ve seemed better lately. W- with Yahaba-san.”

If it were even possible, Kentarou turns _more_ red. He supposes the differences, some of them at least, have to be obvious. He doesn’t come to practice covered in bruises anymore, and he actually _talks_ to most of his teammates without being scolded to do so. It’s not wrong—he _feels_ better—he just wasn’t prepared for someone else to notice. When he fails to come up with something to respond, Kindaichi bobs a quick, shallow bow and goes scrambling off again.

Kentarou isn’t sure if that conversation went _better_ than expected or not.

 

 

* * *

If Shigeru had actually _made_ a plan for how Interhigh should go, this wouldn’t have been it.

Really, with everything going on in his life, a loss in volleyball _shouldn’t_ be so crushing. He should be happy he had the chance to be a part of his team doing so well, grateful that he had the chance to stand on the court _with_ Kyoutani.

They thank Oikawa for his time as captain and file off back to the locker rooms, and Shigeru thinks that the only one not crying is Kyoutani. It’s not because he doesn’t _care_ , Shigeru knows him too well at this point to think that. He’s still upset, it shows in the way his posture is drawn tight like a wire, the way he won’t quite look at any of them but instead glares down at his own hands.

Shigeru glances at them as well and starts when he sees the _claws_ emerging from his hands. It makes sense, Kyoutani has explained that claws and fangs are something that happens when he gets angry, but Shigeru wasn’t expecting to see them here. He watches Kyoutani’s face for another moment—eyebrows settled low and his mouth starting to part around sharp teeth in a snarl.

Wiping his eyes quickly, he grabs Kyoutani’s wrist and tugs him lightly away from the rest of the team, only flinching back slightly when Kyoutani growls at him for it. Kyoutani must realize it as well because he drops his eyes quickly and lets Shigeru pull him outside to a small courtyard with several standing fountains against one wall, keeping his hand soft around Kyoutani’s wrist. “We can stay out here until you’re a little more calm.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Kyoutani snaps, shaking his wrist out of Shigeru’s grasp. Shigeru huffs, throwing his hands up because he has no idea what to do with Kyoutani sometimes, and instead he lifts the hem of his jersey to try and wipe the rest of the tears off of his face.

The silence stretches out between them. Shigeru isn’t sure what he’s supposed to say—he can’t very well offer comfort for a loss he’s still sniffling over himself. Kyoutani paces, his feet a crackle over the fallen leaves around them, growling tiny curses under his breath. He pauses next to one of the brick walls, whirling on it with a sound that’s nearly a _roar_ before slamming his fist into it.

There's a crunching sound and Kyoutani yelps. Shigeru groans, shaking his head and rushing to once again grab Kyoutani’s arm. “Are you an _idiot_?”

“No,” Kyoutani snarls, but this time he doesn’t try to shake Shigeru off. Standing so close to Kyoutani, Shigeru is surprised by the way his eyes look wider, more wild than usual, the fact that the back of his hair looks longer, more coarse. Fur, he realizes.

He lets go of Kyoutani’s arm only to grab his shoulders, rubbing at the tense knots in his back and trying to make his voice low and soothing. “Kyoutani… I need you to calm down for me, okay?”

Kyoutani’s breath comes in and out in harsh pants, and while he doesn’t quite shake his head, he shrugs under Shigeru’s touch. Undeterred, Shigeru grips his shoulders tighter, trying hard to hold Kyoutani’s stare with his own. “Kentarou? Can you just breathe with me?”

He blinks rapidly, like he’s trying to clear his mind out but can’t quite manage before nodding his head. His hands bunch into fists, gripping the back of Shigeru’s jersey, and Shigeru moves his hands up to cup the sides of Kyoutani’s face. Slowly, he closes his eyes, breathing in. “I’m going to count, okay? One, two, three…”

Shigeru pauses and releases the breath, nodding when he feels Kyoutani do the same thing. “Four, five, six… Good. Again, okay?”

Kyoutani inclines his head slightly, and Shigeru breathes in slowly again, feeling Kyoutani’s chest expand as well. It takes several cycles of the two of them continuing to breathe in unison before Kyoutani leans his head softly against Shigeru’s shoulder, closing his eyes and shifting from gripping his jersey to hugging him loosely instead. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Shigeru smiles, pressing a small kiss against Kyoutani’s temple and rubbing his cheeks softly. “How’s your hand?”

“It’ll be fine, it’s just sore,” Kyoutani shrugs, and Shigeru can see color climb to the tips of his ears. “I- if you want you can just use my name.”

He mumbles it into the fabric of Shigeru’s shirt, but not so softly that he can’t be heard. Shigeru can feel his chest swell like he’s sucking in too much air, and he nods softly in response. “Okay. You too then.”

Thankfully, Watari is the one who comes looking for them. He makes plenty of noise, shouting both of their names exaggeratedly to give them time to untangle before he steps around the corner. He grins widely at both of them despite the red rimming his eyes, and Shigeru _knows_ he's going to be explaining this later. “We're getting ready to leave.”

“Yeah, we're coming.” He glances at Kyoutani who nods quickly in agreement. Watari winks at both of them before turning around the corner to head back, and Shigeru groans.

“He thinks we were making out,” he explains when he sees the questioning look on Kyoutani's face, reaching out and tangling their fingers together with a small smile. Kyoutani snorts in response, shaking his head.

“You're both gross,” he huffs, even though Shigeru catches him smiling at their twined fingers.

 

 

* * *

Despite Yahaba's objections, Kentarou decides it's better to spend the next cycle outside once again. He's used to spending them by himself, and there's a small shed out in the forest that he's been able to lock himself inside of before without managing to get out.

Besides, he can't think of a reason for someone to actually be shooting _at_ him.

The sun is still up when he finds the spot he wants, setting his bag down outside but pausing before touching the handle of the door. There’s something in the air around him that feels _wrong_ but not something he can place his finger on. It’s unsettling, in part because of the quiet around him and the hyper-awareness that comes from the wolf just beginning to stir in the back of his mind. He rolls his shoulders, pushing the door open and stepping inside.

 

It’s after midnight when he finally manages to ram his way through the crumbling wood of the locked door, breaking out into the night with a snarl that's born mostly out of triumph. The air around him is crisp, cool with the scent of leaves that have already fallen, only a few stubborn survivors left clinging to the trees.

There's another scent in the air, something sharper that sticks to Kentarou's nose and makes him take off at a run, tongue lolling out of his mouth to taste the air as he moves. He can smell _blood_ , fresh and intoxicating, the promise of something easy to hunt. A rabbit already wounded somehow.

He finds it quivering inside a bush, and oddly enough it doesn't try to run when he approaches, jaws opened wide to catch the rodent in his mouth and make a quick meal out of it...

This time, the gunshot does much more than graze his back. There's a searing, piercing feeling in one of his hind legs, and it gives way under his weight before he's entirely realized what's happened. The wolf doesn't understand the pain at first, and Kentarou tries to push back to his feet, finding that his leg isn't up to the task of supporting him. He crumples to the ground again with a whimper, lip curled over his teeth. He can smell his own blood, and the heavy reek of silver, but under that, he can smell humans getting closer to him.

When they approach, they're silent and careful to avoid actually stepping within reach of his snapping jaws. It's hard to make out anything specific through the pain and the panic flooding through his system, the desperate need to escape that rattles like an alarm bell through his head. Something heavy drapes over his back, and when he tries to push himself up again, the net swings so the weights are beneath him, tangling him in the ropes of it.

"Easier than I thought, at least," a voice remarks dully over Kentarou's head, followed by a yawn.

"Jobs not done yet," another responds, and Kentarou finds himself struggling to keep his eyes open, trying to growl at the people behind him, trying to shake himself free of the net.

His own weight knocks him over, and by the time he lands on the ground once again, the world around him goes black.

 

 

* * *

When Kyoutani is late to the first practice they have after their loss at Spring High, Shigeru is worried. It isn’t as if Kyoutani is a model student when it comes to punctuality or attendance, but if Shigeru has figured out anything over the last several months, it’s that when he isn’t around there’s usually a _reason_ for it.

His gaze keeps wandering towards the door, and he finds himself drifting in and out of the speech Oikawa is giving about loss and the responsibility that they have to one another as a team, waiting for Kyoutani to come through the door with as much force as always before looking sheepish at the noise.

“And _that_ is why I’m proud to be naming Yahaba-chan as my successor as captain! Thank you all for keeping your votes a secret,” Oikawa pokes his tongue out and Shigeru pulls his attention away from the door with a snap, blinking his eyes rapidly.

“W- what?” He gapes. In part, he knows he should have been expecting this. Oikawa has been all but grooming him for it for months, even before the additional hunting lessons were added in, and apparent from the cheering of the rest of the team, they’re more than happy to see him step into the role.

The door does not open, Kyoutani does not stand quietly in the back and watch Oikawa clap him on the shoulder and proclaim that he’s going to be a great captain and lead the team to revenge.

Shigeru remains dazed through the rest of practice, and he’s glad that Oikawa doesn’t seem to mean for him to take everything over _today_ because he’s not sure he’s ready for all of that just yet.

 **To: dogbreath**  
_ >>where are you??_ (8:15)

 **To: dogbreath**  
_ >>Oikawa named me captain_ (8:15)

With a resigned sigh, Shigeru tucks his phone back into his pocket, rubbing the back of his neck. It’s hard not to be concerned that Kyoutani didn’t show up at all.

There’s the chance, of course, that he just decided to stay home and sleep in after his werewolf adventure the night before.

But, the _last_ full moon is playing again and again in Shigeru’s head like a broken record, skipping through scenes of Kyoutani bleeding, snarling, hiding under his bed for safety.

Shigeru goes through the rest of the day edging closer and closer to losing his mind. There’s no Kyoutani at lunch, just Watari’s warm congratulations and Shigeru’s distracted acceptance of it. Watari seems to gather what his mood is odd about because he doesn’t _ask_ where Kyoutani is. Instead, he makes conversation about the historical drama that he likes watching, and Shigeru does his best to pay attention because it’s relaxing just to have Watari talk to him sometimes.

There’s no Kyoutani at afternoon practice when Shigeru has to join Oikawa in being in charge of things so he can get a feel for it. Oikawa has to have noticed, but he doesn’t do anything about it but clap his hand on Shigeru’s shoulder and smile. “I believe in you, y’know.”

“T- thank you,” Shigeru ducks his head, feeling his face warm at that. It’s something he’s embarrassed that he needs to hear from Oikawa, but it _does_ make him feel better. Stepping into Oikawa’s shoes, not only as a setter but as a captain as well was something that he wasn’t expecting, and if he’s honest with himself, he’s not sure that he’s ready for it.

“They’ll go easy on you, at least until you have your _own_ crop of first-years to keep up with,” Iwaizumi nods, glancing at Oikawa with both eyebrows raised. “We need to talk.”

“Ooh, scary,” Oikawa chuckles, but tosses his arm around Iwaizumi’s shoulder, following him out of the gym. “Whip them into shape, Yahaba-chan!”

“R- right!” Shigeru responds, biting his lower lip as the door shuts behind the two of them.

 

After practice finishes, instead of going home he makes his way to Kyoutani’s, hands stuffed into his pockets. It takes him a moment to remember which apartment belongs to him, since his original memories of visiting are fairly vague and mostly twisted up with his panic, but once he’s sure of himself, he taps his knuckles loudly on the door, twisting his fingers in his pocket nervously.

Something feels wrong, and there’s a stone in the pit of Shigeru’s stomach.

The person who opens the door is not Kyoutani, or at least, not the one that Shigeru is looking for. The man isn’t very much taller than Shigeru himself, with black hair that’s gone gray at his temples and a scowl etched across his face. “Can I help you?”

“I- I was wondering if Kentarou-kun was home,” Shigeru has to quickly remind himself to add the honorific back onto Kyoutani’s first name, shuffling his weight between the balls of his feet.

“He should still be at school,” the man shrugs, looking over his shoulder with a grunt. “His shit isn’t here.”

He seems to notice Shigeru’s uniform only after that, and his scowl goes darker. “If he ain’t there, he’s wherever those friends of his hang out. Check with them.”

And with that, the door closes in Shigeru’s face. He hangs his head, trying to swallow the frustration to the back of his throat. It’s not as if he can bang the door down and introduce himself as Kyoutani’s _boyfriend_ , or yell at Kyoutani’s father for not knowing anything about what’s actually going on in Kyoutani’s life.

Shoulders slumping, Shigeru pulls his jacket tighter around himself, slinking his way home with worry hot and acidic in the back of his mouth. He’ll have to go find Kyoutani Kentarou himself, it seems.


	9. null moon

_"There is an excruciating loneliness_  
_in waiting out the hours till morning,_  
_again and again and again_."  
—Martha Manning

* * *

 

Kentarou wakes up feeling like his brain itself is bruised. He tries to stand, only to be halted by his body not moving as he expects. He has four legs, rather than the two he was anticipating, along with a muzzle strapped to his face to hold his mouth shut and there’s a weak stinging sensation around his throat. He flops back to the hard ground beneath him once again, lifting his head and looking around.

It’s light out, though he’s in a building that he doesn’t recognize, and there’s no reason he should still be a wolf. Yet, here he is. When he moves, something chimes softly around his throat, and he whips his head to the side, trying to scramble to his feet to find the source of the song. He can’t manage that either—his hind leg gives out under him and again he falls to the floor. It’s a series of old wooden boards under him, he can feel the worn texture against his stomach. He looks around, standing more slowly and keeping weight off of his bad leg. It seems like he’s in some kind of barn, and the sound comes from the chain, stretching between the wall and the collar fixed around his throat. Closing his eyes, Kentarou tries to shift back on his own.

He can feel the swelling, changing feeling start in his muscles for just a moment before the collar around his throat tightens suddenly until it feels like it’s strangling all the air out of him. Kentarou whines, and when he opens his eyes and stops trying to transform, the collar loosens again. He digs at it with one of his front paws, trying to push his way free.

From somewhere in the room behind him, there’s a long yawn.

Kentarou turns quickly, snarling despite the muzzle strapped to his face, hackles raising and standing on end. There’s a man sitting on a barrel a dozen feet away, cheek leaning on one hand, looking bored despite the focus with which he watches Kentarou. The man spends another moment watching him, though there isn’t a single flicker of fear, or even interest in his expression before looking over his shoulder. “Seguro, he’s awake.”

Even with his ears tuned to the sounds of motion, Kentarou doesn’t hear the footsteps of the other two men. The barn isn’t big, and it seems that both of them must have come down from the half-rotted loft that faces where Kentarou is chained in the corner. They emerge like wisps of smoke—both around the same height, one with close-cropped hair bleached nearly white, and the other with inky black hair that hangs over one of his eyes.

The light-haired man raises his considerably thick eyebrows, watching Kentarou with an evaluating expression that slowly gives way to a smile. “Well, good. He’s no use to us dead.”

“You dig the bullet out of his leg, Kuguri?” The third one asks, turning to the man sitting on the barrel. Kuguri shrugs in response but nods his head, raking his fingers through his spiked hair.

“Wasn’t that hard. I got most of it out.” ‘Most’ would explain the burning pain that keeps Kentarou from being able to put weight on his leg. Despite the full moon just having past, Kentarou can’t feel the wolf in the back of his mind. It’s strange—for the first time since he was a child, it feels like his mind only contains his own thoughts.

Perhaps, ten years ago, that would have been exciting, comforting even. But now, it only serves to make him feel terrifyingly alone.

It’s almost a comfort to hear that he’s no use to them if he removes himself from the fact that he doesn’t know where he is, he’s trapped as a wolf with no instincts to help him, on top of being injured.

But then, Kentarou has never been much for just giving up. He continues pulling the chain taut behind him, trying to snap it with sheer force. It’s a small blessing that they don’t outright laugh at his efforts, but they don’t seem interested in them either. Still, Kentarou pulls until his muscles burn from the effort until he’s panting despite the chill morning air, until his wounded leg gives up on holding his weight and he crashes to the wooden floor once more.

He lays on his side with a low whine through his teeth, ears pinned flat to his head, watching the three of them despite the fact that they already seem more absorbed in talking to one another than paying attention to anything he’s doing. Frightened, and realizing there’s no easy way out of this, Kentarou curls up in the smallest ball he can make of himself, licking weakly at his wounded leg.

To himself, he wishes that he weren’t wishing for Yahaba to come find him.

 

 

* * *

“So, the best way to disarm someone coming at you with a knife.” Oikawa has one in his hand as he approaches, and while Shigeru is watching the flash of the blade in his hand he doesn’t feel like he’s really registering what Oikawa is trying to teach him. He holds the knife in his own hand tighter, trying to will himself into focusing. Both knives still have leather sheaths on, presumably to prevent one of them from getting hurt on accident. “Try not to ball your hands up into fists—you want to be able to grab their arm, or strike back if you need to.”

“Okay,” Shigeru responds absently, and when he almost fails to track the motion of Oikawa’s arm striking out at him, Oikawa stops short and sighs.

This is the third lesson he’s dragged Shigeru into since Kyoutani went missing, and he’s having trouble seeing the point of discussing knife fighting techniques when someone might very well have _killed_ Kyoutani while Oikawa was walking him through one of these demonstrations. Oikawa pries the knife gently from his fingers, setting them both on the frozen ground by his foot. Winter has rolled in now, even if it seems to have come late, and there’s a thin layer of snow covering the grass.

“Shi-chan.” Oikawa frowns and Shigeru snaps his attention back with a blink.

“Sorry.” He rubs the back of his neck, and it doesn’t take someone as perceptive as Oikawa Tooru to figure out what’s on Shigeru’s mind. The sharp, scolding expression on his face eases and it’s replaced by something like pity that makes Shigeru’s stomach twist into tighter knots.

“You know, Iwa-chan and I are looking for him.” Oikawa smiles, but Shigeru can’t quite bring himself to believe the sincerity of it. “But it’s still only been a few days—he might just show up on his own.”

“Do you really believe that?” Shigeru asks, raising both of his eyebrows. This is the last thing he wants to be so pessimistic about, but it seems too simple a thing to hope for; that days after the waning of the full moon, Kyoutani will simply show up as if nothing happened, totally unharmed.

“We haven’t found any signs that something bad happened to him,” Oikawa answers, but Shigeru can sense the words he’s treading carefully around. He scowls, and Oikawa continues before he demands more information. “But… I have heard of something that can sometimes happen to werewolves.”

“That makes them mysteriously vanish?” Shigeru questions, tapping his fingers nervously on his thigh. Oikawa keeps smiling, but it’s more shallow than before.

“I’ve heard that sometimes on the full moon they can just—lose track of who they are. They get confused with all the wolf instinct in their brains and just forget that they’re human.” Oikawa sounds as if he believes himself on the topic, but it’s not enough yet to soothe Shigeru’s worries. “It usually wears off by the time the new moon happens, and they go back to their lives.”

“You think that’s what happened? Kyoutani just… forgot to come home?” Shigeru shakes his head. He doesn’t believe it, not after how Kyoutani ran straight to him, not after how even the wolf was able to recognize him. He doesn’t want to think Kyoutani is capable of forgetting his life so easily—of forgetting Shigeru so easily.

Oikawa’s smile finally gives up and he pats Shigeru’s shoulder with the slightest of sighs. “I’m not sure, Shi-chan, but isn’t it best to be positive where we can?”

Shigeru hardly thinks that’s a very positive scenario, and Oikawa seems to sense it as much as anything else because he pats Shigeru once more. “Iwa-chan and I will keep on looking—in the meantime, the best thing you can do to help is to keep focused.”

Well, Oikawa has him there. Shigeru nods his head, squeezing his hand into a fist before releasing it quickly. He’s willing to trust in Oikawa—he’s shown at least so far that he genuinely doesn’t want anything to happen to either Shigeru or Kyoutani, even if his methods aren’t those that Shigeru would have gone with himself. The need for secrecy he can understand, at least. He’s not sure he would have thought Oikawa anything other than a complete lunatic if he had started with a story about how Kyoutani was a dangerous werewolf.

“Alright,” he agrees, though he doesn’t feel any lighter for it. He can’t erase all of his worry for Kyoutani, but at least he can try to channel it into being productive instead. “Show me again?”

Oikawa nods, leaning over and picking both knives up once again, handing one carefully back to Shigeru and shaking the snow off of his own. “Excellent.”

 

Two days later, Shigeru is sitting in Oikawa’s bedroom, feeling out of place and with no news to make him feel any better about it. Oikawa has his glasses slipping down his nose, staring intently at the book in his lap and mumbling quietly to himself as he reads.

Oikawa’s bedroom is simultaneously exactly as Shigeru expects it to look, and nothing at all like what he might have guessed. There’s an entire wall of bookshelves, stuffed to the point of sagging dangerously, and in no actual order that Shigeru can discern. There’s assorted volleyball posters on his walls, images of the last three Japanese Olympic teams, and a stuffed alien looking worn and well-loved on his bed. There’s a volleyball sitting next to the desk and a precarious stack of DVDs next to a laptop.

It’s all tossed together in a giant shuffle, and Shigeru can’t help himself from feeling like he’s crossing a line by being here in the first place. Oikawa doesn’t seem to mind, of course, but his focus has sharpened to a deadly point. Apparently, something else turned up dead and gutted in some terrible way that Oikawa wouldn’t fully explain, which has sent him back into a flurry of research. Shigeru isn’t sure if he would notice an earthquake shaking the room to pieces.

But, worse than an earthquake is the unannounced arrival of one Iwaizumi Hajime, shouldering the door open with a slight frown on his face and his backpack still thrown over his shoulder. “Oikawa! Didn’t you get my text about the lead on the poachers? We should get going.”

He looks first at Oikawa, sitting frog-style in the middle of the floor, eyes unblinking as he stares at the page in front of him, and then at Shigeru.

His brow furrows in confusion, and he nudges one bare foot against Oikawa’s knee. “Oi. Why is Yahaba-kun here?”

“’M training him,” Oikawa mumbles, without lifting his head. Iwaizumi blinks, looking between the two of them, and Shigeru can _feel_ the color draining out of his face. Iwaizumi bends down, snatching the book out of Oikawa’s hands and snapping it shut so the pages clap together loudly, and finally, Oikawa looks up, adjusting the glasses before blinking rapidly. “I mean—”

“You’re training him?” Iwaizumi snaps, and Oikawa frowns, the bridge of his nose wrinkling slightly. They spend a moment glaring at one another like that, locked in an impasse that Shigeru would desperately love to escape. Finally, Oikawa sighs and nods his head. “For how long?”

“He’s involved in this now, whether we like it or not, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa blinks, looking a bit owlish without the book in front of his face. He reaches up for it, making an undignified grabbing gesture and whining when Iwaizumi holds the book out of his reach. “I have more research to do, Iwa-chan.”

“For how long, Oikawa,” Iwaizumi repeats, and his face is far from the playful grumpiness that Shigeru is used to seeing during practice. His whole posture is tight, and Shigeru can sense that he’s only a beat—a poorly delivered answer, away from snapping.

Shigeru swallows, shifting awkwardly in the chair by Oikawa’s desk that he’s perched in, gripping the hard plastic edges with both hands. “I asked him to!”

His voice comes out too loud, and Shigeru has to let out a breath, to calm himself before he speaks again. He’s good at being calm—at least on the surface. “After… Kyoutani’s fight, I didn’t want to be helpless if anything else happened.”

A load of good it’s done him now, of course. Iwaizumi turns toward him, simply raising the book higher when Oikawa lunges for the book. He looks like he doesn’t entirely believe Shigeru, then he sighs. “It doesn’t matter if you did or not. Hunting is dangerous, it’s not something you should be involved in.”

Iwaizumi glares down at Oikawa, dropping the book back into his lap. “And you should know better.”

“He’s a sitting duck. I’m not taking him out to shoot wendigo but I’m also not going to let him just get eaten,” Oikawa huffs, flicking the cover of his book open again. “What was your lead?”

Iwaizumi glances over at Shigeru, shaking his head. “We can talk about it later.”

“It’s about Kyoutani, right?” Shigeru asks, pushing up to his feet now. Iwaizumi’s face is grim, and he hesitates a moment before nodding, but holding a hand up.

“We’re looking for him, Yahaba-kun. You shouldn’t get involved with something like poachers.” He’s trying to sound reassuring, Shigeru knows, but the word ‘poachers’ makes his stomach sink through the floor. Oikawa sighs, taking his glasses off and pinching the bridge of his nose between two of his fingers.

“I hadn’t told him about them yet, Iwa-chan,” he sighs, and Shigeru stares at both of them.

“Kyoutani is with _poachers_?” It would be impossible not to be afraid of that. He’s seen plenty of the damage they’ve caused already with Oikawa, and thinking about something like that happening to Kyoutani…

Shigeru drops back to the seat, feeling suddenly ill.

“We—don’t know for sure,” Iwaizumi sighs after shooting Oikawa a glare. He’s still mad, it’s obvious, but he’s also trying now to make Shigeru feel better. It doesn’t work, but Shigeru appreciates it anyway.

“There’s no sign that anything has happened to him.” Oikawa frowns, putting the glasses back on and combing his bangs away from his face with one hand. “If they have him, and it’s still a big if, they’re holding onto him for now.”

“W- what would a poacher even want with Kyoutani?” Shigeru can feel his hands shaking and he grips them into fists on top of his thighs. Oikawa looks down at the book in his lap, tracing a finger over the spine.

“His heart.”

 

 

* * *

Kentarou isn’t sure when he was last able to actually sleep. He’s struggling against it now, rubbing his face against his paws and feeling his eyes blink unevenly against the burden of staying open; the heavy weight of them makes the idea of rest sound so inviting.

But, he can’t settle down enough to actually let sleep claim him. His eyes sink shut and he feels helpless against the weight of his body. It would be a relief if the darkness wandering at the edges of his consciousness would actually claim him, and for a moment he feels so close, and he shifts himself slightly to the side to get more comfortable…

The slight ring of the chain around his neck makes him jerk upright again, tense and alert. He can feel sleep slipping away again, and he growls softly at the musty air of the barn. He’s not sure where any of the poachers are—they don’t watch him constantly. Sometimes one or two of them will be sitting in the loft or on one of the old workbenches, but Kentarou can’t smell any of them there now. He doesn’t know where they go and without a reliable method of telling the time he’s rarely certain how long they’re gone.

Days are passing though, Kentarou can feel it. He’s not sure how many, and he’s given up trying to make marks on the floor to count. It’s December, he knows. The middle, maybe; after his birthday for sure. The date slipped by him at some point, unnoticed and uncelebrated like most years. But he’s much more certain of the waning of the moon. He can feel it, the way his body gets weaker as his spirit edges toward being human for a brief window. Kentarou has never been a fan of new moons—he feels too weak without the sort of wolfness he’s become so accustomed to like he’s sick and can’t smell or sense what’s going on around him.

With the urge to sleep past once again, Kentarou heaves himself up to his feet, being careful not to put too much weight on his back leg. It’s healing, but the silver in the wound still burns and slows the usually quick process. He’s gotten more accustomed to the range he has on the chain; enough space to stand and turn around. He can make it about three feet from the wall that the chain is screwed to before he reaches the end of it.

Trying to transform still makes the collar constrict painfully around his throat, and save for the irregular times they feed him, Kentarou is muzzled constantly as well. There’s enough space for him to open his mouth and lap water from the bowl placed by the wall like he’s someone’s forgotten pet. He turns himself around slowly, hobbling his way over to the wall and nosing at the hitch that attaches the chain to the wall. It’s screwed into the wall with bolts that are well past rusted and the chain clips to the ring of it. The chain and the collar around Kentarou’s throat are newer, things that it seems the poachers brought with them rather than coming from the barn like the hitch.

Kentarou sits, and like he has been each time he’s left alone, digs his claws against the wood and rust and tries to pry loose the hitch. It’s begun to wiggle, the bolts that hold it against the wall starting to crumble from age. It’s harder than it should be for Kentarou, weakened by the waning of the moon, his injuries, by not being fed enough. But he’s never been one for giving up, and he keeps clawing at the same spot on the wall, ignoring the splinters that stick in the pad of his foot. If it comes free, he can run, and that seems to be his best chance for getting away.

 

The barn loses light early in the day, Kentarou thinks, when the sun sinks below the trees and the single high window next to the loft. All three of them return after the light sinks below the walls of the barn and the now familiar scent of the trio is mixed with the smell of some kind of strange blood. It stings and lingers in Kentarou’s nose, and he hunkers his body low to the floor and pressed to the wall.

Even without animal instincts, Kentarou tries to be as small as he can whenever they’re near him. But now, more than that, he’s covering the way the hitch joining the chain to the wall is hanging from a single rusty screw. It could break off at one strong tug, even with Kentarou feeling as weak as he is now.

Hiroo stares at him for a moment before looking back at Seguro. Kentarou has him pegged as the leader, though it’s only by a loose definition. He gives orders that the other two seem to regularly ignore. Hiroo frowns, standing with his hands stuffed into his pockets, and even in the low light Kentarou can see the dark stains of blood on his knees and the streaks left from wiping his hands carelessly on his pants. “Remind me again why we gotta keep him?”

“I told you before, we can’t just cut his heart out and stick it in a jar,” Seguro groans, using an old rag to clean his own hands. Kentarou’s stomach turns, and this time, it isn’t just from the reek of blood that permeates the air, settling thick in the back of his throat. Without the animal in his head, it doesn’t even make him hungry. His hunger, his exhaustion, they’re both buried somewhere under his fear.

Heart, he said. Cut out his heart. Kentarou’s ears pin flat to his head and he whines. They ignore him, as they always do, but Seguro keeps talking in response to the annoyed look from Hiroo. “Look, the solstice is only a week away. The moon is gone. It’ll be an easy job, just don’t think about it too hard.”

“Not like that’s easy since you have us keeping him as a pet,” Kuguri snorts, taking up residence on the barrel he seems to like for some reason. “Think he’d let me rub behind his ears?”

“You get infected and I’ll put you down myself,” Seguro snaps, shaking his head. They seem to be getting frustrated with one another more frequently now, though Kentarou doesn’t know why.

He curls in on himself tighter, closing his eyes even though sleep is far out of the question now.

 

 

* * *

“You’re sure your little fairy friend isn’t sending us on a wild goose chase?” Oikawa snaps, glowering at Iwaizumi’s back as the woods around them gets thicker than Shigeru would have expected possible for the tiny belt of trees he’s used to. Iwaizumi sighs, picking a dead leaf out of his spiky hair and glaring right back at Oikawa.

“Yes, I’m sure. And I told you not to come if you were going to complain.” They’ve been at each other’s throats since Iwaizumi found out about Shigeru’s apparently illicit hunting lessons. Oikawa’s nose wrinkles, his lip curling slightly in irritation.

“It’s freezing and you’re getting us _lost_ on the word of some pixie!” Oikawa tosses his hands in the air, gesturing at the forest around them. “There’s no sign that anyone has even been out here! No tracks in the snow, no blood, no secret poaching lair. It’s almost night and this was a waste of our time.”

Shigeru has seen the two of them fight before, of course. Over volleyball, over Oikawa staying up too late or because Iwaizumi is frustrated with his skills as a player.

But this is a different kind of fight, and it’s obvious that neither of them wants to be the one to back down here. They’re angry at one another for more than a few hours of hiking and Shigeru wishes they weren’t in the middle of nowhere so he could make a quiet exit.

Then, of course, a twig snaps somewhere a few feet away and both of them tense like it was a bolt of lightning. Oikawa’s mouth shuts so hard that his teeth click, and Iwaizumi has a hand at his back, reaching for the crossbow he has strapped there.

Shigeru tenses like a wire ready to snap and Oikawa gives him a sidelong glance, like for a moment he’s wondering if Shigeru should be there at all. Nothing follows the sound, and Iwaizumi drops his hand from his back with a huff. “Please keep your voice down.”

“It was probably just a deer, right?” Shigeru asks, his words coming out in a hissed whisper, and Iwaizumi blinks at him before humming a single note. It doesn’t fill Shigeru with much confidence, and he wonders if they’re deeper into the woods than even animals will go. Oikawa sighs, shaking his head and pushing his fingers through his bangs. His eyes are rimmed with heavy bags that even Shigeru knows don’t bode well for how much he’s been sleeping.

“Nothing’s gonna happen, Shi-chan. Don’t sound so scared,” Oikawa keeps his voice light, but it doesn’t match the intense level of focus in his eyes. Iwaizumi glares at him, and Shigeru wonders to himself what the two of them are so worried about running into in the middle of the forest. “It doesn’t seem like Iwa-chan’s lead has panned out for us, though.”

“You’re right. I should’ve skulked off on my own to check it without bothering to tell you,” Iwaizumi snaps in return, and Oikawa puffs his cheeks out in a frustrated pout.

“Not everything I do is your business, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa has his hands on his hips, and Shigeru nearly sighs, leaning his back against the trunk of a nearby tree. He would love for the two of them to stop bickering, especially when they apparently don’t have any leads that could tell them where Kyoutani might be.

“Um,” he starts, only to have the two of them ignore him. Iwaizumi looks like he’d enjoy nothing more than the chance to punch Oikawa square in the jaw at the moment, and Oikawa tilts his head back slightly, trying to increase the effect of glaring _down_ at Iwaizumi.

There’s an animal of some kind, built like a shaggy brown dog with a scruffy, scarred face that reminds Shigeru of a stray cat, shuffling between the trees a dozen feet behind Iwaizumi. It’s strangely gaunt, the angles of its ribs sharp even with the thick fur that covers its body and it stops at the sight of the three of them, sniffing the air. Oikawa blinks, lowering his gaze to focus on it, and Iwaizumi starts to turn until Oikawa shakes his head. He speaks without quite moving his lips all the way. “Gulon. It hasn’t recognized us as food yet.”

Iwaizumi nods, glancing behind himself and then back at Shigeru. “Hungry?”

“Definitely,” Oikawa responds, taking a slow step forward. The snow on the ground keeps him from making too loud a sound, but the gulon still turns toward them with a chirping sound like a hungry cat. Shigeru is frozen, watching its red eyes take in the three of them. He’s not sure he wants to know very much about a hungry gulon, especially with Iwaizumi so clearly on edge with it behind him. Oikawa reaches behind his back slowly, trying to limit his movement at much as possible. “You’re not going to have time to shoot it. When it charges, roll to the side.”

Iwaizumi nods and Shigeru thinks it’s curious, strange even, that their anger at one another is gone so quickly. Maybe it’s only been set to the side for a moment, but they seem able to work together without hesitation from here. It’s comforting, to say the least, especially when Oikawa doesn’t quite look at him but makes a small gesture in his direction. “Behind the tree please, Shi-chan.”

Shigeru doesn’t argue or try to point out that he could help somehow. A hungry gulon doesn’t seem like a good thing, and while neither of them looks scared, Iwaizumi is taking slow breaths and standing as still as possible. Oikawa draws a knife from his belt, silver and thirsty in the slowly encroaching twilight, and Shigeru thinks that maybe it looks a little too small to properly take care of something as big as the gulon while he shuffles himself behind the bulk of the trees.

He still has clear sight of the gulon, and it rears its head back with a high, wailing call and charges forward, padded feet churning up the snow in its path. Iwaizumi doesn’t turn around, he keeps his eyes focused on Oikawa, and when he’s given the slightest nod he ducks and rolls his body out of the way.

The gulon, undeterred by the loss of it’s easiest prey, leaps on Oikawa instead. He falls back into the snow with a huff of air being shoved out of his lungs, and for a second there’s an expression on his face that looks something like shock. His fingers are still wrapped tight around the knife but he seems to be struggling for air with one of the gulon’s feet resting on the center of his chest. Shigeru starts to move out from behind the tree, not sure what he might do but planning on at least distracting the creature from killing Oikawa.

He doesn’t get the chance, because there’s the sharp twang of the crossbow now in Iwaizumi’s hands and a thick bolt sticking out from the gulon’s side, just behind its front leg. The creature gurgles, loud and angry, but Oikawa drops the knife and shoves the bolt in deeper, blood seeping out of the wound and down his wrist. The gulon buckles, tumbling to the side with a pained sound, and Oikawa picks himself up with a strained smile.

The rattling last breaths of the gulon don’t seem to bother either of them, but Shigeru is sure he’s going to be hearing that sound in his sleep for weeks. Iwaizumi huffs, putting the crossbow over his back once more and walking over, wiping a smear of blood off of Oikawa’s cheek with a frown. For how angry he was just a few moments ago, the touch seems strangely tender, and Oikawa leans into it. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He shrugs his shoulders, and there’s a soft, real smile on his face. “It’s just from falling.”

Iwaizumi nods his head, and for a moment Shigeru is worried they’re going to kiss and he’s going to have to awkwardly pretend he didn’t see anything, but Iwaizumi seems to recall that he’s standing there with his hands stuffed into his pockets because he steps back from Oikawa with his cheeks going red. He clears his throat, and Oikawa jumps slightly, turning with a smile, wiping the rest of the blood off of his face on his own. “Shi-chan! You’re okay, aren’t you?”

“I’m fine,” he answers quickly, glancing again at the thin body of the gulon. “What is that?”

“It’s a greed spirit,” Oikawa answers, flapping his wrist at the corpse of it. “Not anything to worry so much about, really—”

“This is why you can’t come searching with us,” Iwaizumi cuts Oikawa off, and Shigeru can feel a protest already in the back of his throat when Iwaizumi shakes his head. “I can’t stop Oikawa from teaching you, fine. But I’m not going to be responsible for someone who can’t defend himself. We’ll look for Kyoutani, you need to stay out of it.”

Oikawa sighs, and for a moment Shigeru almost hopes that he’ll argue with Iwaizumi on this as well, but he rubs the back of his neck and shakes his head sadly. “Iwa-chan is right, you’re not experienced enough for all of this. We should get you home.”

Shigeru grinds his teeth together, following as the two of them turn and walk in the other direction. It’s pointless to argue, of course. They’re both terribly stubborn and Shigeru has no chance of winning.

If he wants to find Kyoutani, it seems, he’ll need another way to do it.

 

Having never skipped practice in the afternoon before, Shigeru feels awkward about slipping out of his last class and making a dash for his locker before Watari has a chance to spot him, after having sent him a text message saying he wasn’t feeling well. He’s the team captain now, and he _should_ be there for his team, but he has the suspicion that no one is going to blame him for missing once while Kyoutani is gone.

Oikawa told the school, and the rest of the team apparently, that Kyoutani was off visiting a sick family member. It’s an excuse that’s held up well enough, except people keep asking Shigeru how he’s doing and when he’ll be back and every time Shigeru’s sanity frays just a little bit thinner.

Neither of his senpai has told him anything more about their search for Kyoutani; apparently, the plan now is just to freeze him out entirely. But Shigeru’s got his own plan to search from here forward.

Standing outside of Jozenji and waiting for their volleyball practice to end is cold, and Shigeru is hugged inside of his coat with his teeth quietly chattering by the time the boy he’s looking for walks out. He’s easy to recognize, with the bleached hair and the undercut, the piercing in his tongue wiggling as he talks excitedly to the girl walking next to him. He takes a breath, listening to whatever she’s saying before he stops, turning his head quickly and looking at Shigeru with a confused blink of his eyes.

Shigeru recalls Futakuchi complaining that he reeked of Kyoutani, and he wonders if that’s still true. Terushima, Shigeru can remember his name at least, waves at the girl as he jogs over, a slight frown on his face. He skids to a stop a few feet in front of Shigeru, looking past him like he’s expecting Kyoutani to be standing there with his customary glare on his face. And Shigeru wishes that he were—he hasn’t forgotten his last run-in with werewolves, Terushima included.

But he’s running short of options and if it means finding Kyoutani safely he’s willing to swallow the fear clawing its way up his throat.

It’s dark, and Shigeru has himself stationed under a street lamp with his breath making clouds in front of him. In the sky above them, the moon is the barest sliver in the sky. “He’s missing.”

Terushima’s eyes blink wide, and he digs his teeth into his lip for a moment, thinking. “For how long?”

“Three weeks,” Shigeru sighs, his hands curling into fists in his pockets. “Since the full moon.”

Terushima’s head nods, tilting his head back and taking a deep breath. “I- I can help find him, I think.”

Shigeru nods his head, trying not to seem too eager at that prospect. He’s not sure that he can trust Terushima not to lead him into the woods and rip his guts out for fun, but the concern on his face seems genuine and at this point, Shigeru would probably throw himself on the mercy of Heisuke, if he were still alive. “Good. That’s what I was hoping you would say.”

 

 

* * *

Kentarou lifts his head weakly at the smell of food and the slow approach of Seguro at his right side. He doesn’t snarl in response to the muzzle being removed like he did the first time they tried to feed him. He’s tired, and at this point, the food is a welcome offering. Kentarou really hasn’t given much thought to _what_ he’s being fed. It’s been raw meat each time, but nothing that smelled at all familiar to him.

His stomach growls when the plate is set in front of him, but he does his best to ignore it. Seguro, the muzzle still in his hands, backs away carefully. He’s too slow, however, and when Kentarou whips himself to the side, teeth bared, ripping into the muscle of his calf, he’s not prepared for the strike. He shouts, but Kentarou releases his leg before the other two react.

He’s weak now, and getting weaker every day, but with the sound of guns being cocked and panic hot and metallic in his veins, Kentarou summons the last of the strength in his muscles and hurls himself forward. The chain draws taut for a moment before the last screw on the hitch snaps, old and weakened by rust and by Kentarou’s slow progress digging it away from the wall.

Legs shaking, he sprints out the door, the chain ringing as it drags behind him. Outside it’s dark, with a heavy layer of snow on the ground and more still falling from the sky in fat, slow flakes that spin in the air and settle in Kentarou’s fur. He can hear the poachers behind him shouting, and he only puts more speed into his tired muscles. He can ignore, for the moment, the way his lungs burn and his body wants to collapse into the snow and finally _rest_. This is the only chance he’ll have to escape, he knows, and he has to make it count here and now.

The ground under his feet gives way, and for a strange, sickening moment, Kentarou finds himself tumbling into a void.

He yelps loudly when he hits the bottom. There’s a burning pain in one of his forelegs, and when he tries to lift himself up there’s the sucking sound of something being pulled from a wound. He looks to find a sharpened stake stabbing into the muscle of his shoulder, and he whines at the agony of it. It’s a small blessing that it’s only wood and not silver. He picks himself up slowly, shaking dirt and bloodied snow off of his fur and turning to lick tenderly at the wound.

The pit he’s trapped in is roughly circular, dug three or four feet into the ground. The earth is hard and frozen, but Kentarou doesn’t have the strength to haul himself out, or even to try.

He lays back down, careful to avoid the spikes. He can hear the footsteps following after him; two of them coming in a desperate race to reclaim him.

High, high above him, in a sky that Kentarou almost can’t see through the heavy, snow-laden clouds, the moon is barely a sliver, an afterthought hanging in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is the first chapter where every illustration has something bleeding in it, but i hope it isn't the last.


End file.
